


Memoriter

by lawlipoppie



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Cock & Ball Torture, Dom Baek, Dry Orgasm, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Light Dom/sub, Lingerie, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rimming, Sappiness, Sex Toys, Smut, Snowballing, Spanking, ah baek is a fashion person of sorts, that ending tho ;), they're so in love man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 10:07:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13479204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lawlipoppie/pseuds/lawlipoppie
Summary: It will be the last time they do this. For a while. A long while.





	Memoriter

**Author's Note:**

> There are two types of people who could be reading this: those who read tessellation, and those who didn’t. 
> 
> If you did: Well….Surprise!!! Here is the sequel that you never asked for!! (oh god) 
> 
> If you didn’t: DON'T LEAVE! PLS!! this is goes just fine as a stand alone too! Imma just say that Baek is three years older than Sehun, Sehun is an underwear model at the company Baek works for, and also they’re stupidly, ridiculously in love. This is all you needa know hihi
> 
> I want to remind yall that this is the wonderful world of fiction where u can eat all the ass you want without consequence. In the real world, however, e.coli exists. U dont want that in ur mouth. Pls dont sex like my sebaek sex. I was feelin rly raunchy and this is raunchy, pls dont take after them (esp the ball busting part oh my) 
> 
> There is also a specific topic that I exploit towards the end, which i frankly haven’t seen mentioned more than briefly in other fics, and tbh, i now understand why that is the case TT I tried to keep the details of the matter as accurate as possible, even though the informative materials i could find on it weren't terribly extensive. 
> 
> Thank you darling miss Joanie for betaing. One day i will know the difference between rise and raise, i promise. 
> 
> And lastly, there might still be a typo or two in this, cuz i skipped the final read-through. There are few things more painful than reading ur own shit, so i hope yall forgive me. 
> 
> I hope you like it =^-^=!!

 

Sehun is close to drifting off again. The shower he took after waking up didn’t sober him as much as he would’ve liked. Nor did his walk here, no matter how brisk his pace was, no matter how excited he was to arrive.  

He turns his nose into the pillow. It only smells of fabric softener, not of Baekhyeon’s cologne. Stubbornly, he keeps breathing into it, searching.

The evening is still young. Sehun patiently waits for the flames of the sunset to scald the apartment, waits for the time Baekhyeon will be back. He fears, though, that his eyes will close before the day does.

He deems the first sound a phantasm, his wishful thinking weaving with his somnolence, before he hears another beep, and another, until the little melody of the code being punched in sings through the room. It’s followed by footsteps. Sehun already knows what shoes he’s wearing by the sound alone. It’s a shoe in a creeper style, but more elegant, with a hard heel. His favourites.

He jumps to his feet immediately, which is a bad move given how he’s been prostrated on the couch for so long, and even as his vision swims with blackness and his balance falters, he still makes out Baekhyeon’s figure standing in the doorway. He’s not startled in the least to find Sehun in his living room.

They don’t even say hi. No small talk for now. No how was your day, how was the meeting. This isn’t important. This holds no value.

But they smile at each other, in lieu of everything. They always do. How could they not when they mean so much to one another. But smile bigger, warmer, for today, tonight is different.

Maybe they should have dined together. Should have cooked. Went out on a date. Spent every minute together.

Instead, Sehun is seeing Baekhyeon only now, at the tail of the evening, when he is coming back from a gathering with some designers, both of them having eaten separately, having done everything separately.

But that doesn’t matter either.

Sehun opens his arms. Only a little. His hands barely part from his sides before Baekhyeon is dropping everything, carelessly toeing off his beloved shoes, and sprinting towards him, steps light and quick on the floor, and landing right into Sehun’s chest. His head hits Sehun’s ribcage, a little thump, and with that, his heart revives, picks up where it left off with the aria it was chirping for Baekhyeon the last time he saw him.

Baekhyeon wreathes his arms around his middle, squeezing him close, and Sehun can do nothing but nuzzle into his hair. He only feels silkiness, no product, no scent other than the rose of his shampoo. It’s fluffy, unstyled, and straight. Sehun rubs his nose into it to ruffle it more just because.

“I slept so much today,” he says, the rust of not having spoken a word for a long time laving down his throat.

“You needed that.” Baekhyeon’s fingertips trot in place, a little up and down, one by one, in the ravine of Sehun’s spine, penning a teeny metre. Sehun cannot pinpoint its genre.

“Fun fact,” Sehun begins, trying to impersonalize _something_ for effect, which he fails at anyway. “When I’m not sleeping with you, I dream of you. And then I don’t want to wake up.”

Baekhyeon, when he’s like this with him, has his own place, his own curl, filling all the dales of Sehun’s body with his presence, serene, warm. They could stay like this for hours.

He twitches now, and they unslot the slightest bit. “Wow. That’s a _really_ fun fact.” Sehun handles him until they’re back to how they should be. Baekhyeon’s timbre mellows. “Are you disappointed now? Is dream me better? Wanna go back to sleeping?”

He hears the smile in his voice, all of the words wound, squared, just like the smile on his lips is, how the one on his eyes is.

Sehun doesn’t even gratify that with an answer, but he bends instead and places a dry little kiss to Baekhyeon’s temple. There was a longing, a nearabout ache in his lips all day to feel his skin, to feel him leaning in, and asking for another one with a tilt of his head. Sehun gives him all the kisses he wants, making a small inventory of all his beauty spots. With his eyes closed, he reaches the one near his temple, the one on his cheek, the one above his lip. They go in a straight line, all three of them. Baekhyeon’s face is the most familiar thing to him – he has an intimate knowledge of its movement, of its relief, of its smoothness.

It will come in handy when the throes of missing will hit, will agonize him.

“Are you tired?” Sehun inquires, pulling away to look at him. He doesn’t look tired. But he rarely does – fatigue doesn’t show on his body, but it shows in his mien, in his mannerisms. It’s the one thing he hasn’t really figured out by sight alone.

Sehun seeks his eyes next. They’re bright, and get brighter as Baekhyeon shakes his head. His hair bounces, getting even fluffier than Sehun’s nose has left it.

“I napped too before going out. Though definitely not as much as you.”

“Did you dream of me?”

A puff of air emits from Baekhyeon’s nose, like it wanted to be a laugh but it got cut off by his simper, and it settled for being a stew of them together. “A little. Not enough.”

“ _Not enough_ ,” Sehun mimes, voice pointed and high, all the dolce mockery squeezed out of him by Baekhyeon’s sappiness. Not that he doesn’t love it. Not that he doesn’t love how much Baekhyeon loves him.

Baekhyeon, embarrassed, pushes at him, and the both of them fall over and onto the couch. He must have calculated that, because they don’t break any bones, and Baekhyeon ends up curled perfectly on top of him all without severing the hug. Sehun is impressed, and his grin chooses Baekhyeon’s neck to hide itself into. As usual.

He’s wearing a suit made of a stretchy material. His shirt isn’t even buttoned all the way, and Sehun can see the charm of his necklace cupped by the concavity between his collarbones. His pants are loose on the calf, but tight on the thigh. He can twist around Sehun without a care for his clothing.

Sehun’s lips tingle again and he seeks skin, seeks skin to dulcify them with. Seeks Baekhyeon.

“Did it go well?” he inquires before pulling a bit of his collar away to kiss his neck. The meeting. The whatever it was that Baekhyeon had to do.

Baekhyeon whimpers at the peck before replying. “It did, actually.”

Sehun pulls away just in time to see his triumphant smile. Smug. Relieved. Nothing but a pleased Baekhyeon. A lovely Baekhyeon.

Sehun wraps his other arm around his shoulders and brings him close. Brings them cheek to cheek. Cuddling. A bit of a rub – their hands, their legs, their breaths. Neither of them speak for a while. There is no need to. This might be the basest form of contentment, rudimentary, incognizant. Just the two of them _being_. Together.

It’s tell-tale of such profound devotion to be satisfied with this, to be so content and restful.

Until Baekhyeon squirms. “Aren’t you gonna kiss me?”

“Aren’t I kissing you?” Sehun murmurs into the kiss he’s _just_ lettering under Baekhyeon’s ear.

“Are you?” he whines. As though Sehun is not giving him enough. As though Sehun is keeping something from him.

“Am I?” Heedless to Baekhyeon’s words, Sehun continues speckling the sill of Baekhyeon’s jaw with teensy pecks. There is a powdering of stubble under his chin, and Sehun lingers there, teasing his lips with the faint prickle.

“You’re an awful boyfriend,” Baekhyeon says. Sehun can _hear_ the scrunch of his nose. And it makes him smile.

“I’m a great boyfriend,” he counters.

“How? How are you so great?” His head tips towards Sehun, his eyes tapered, rimpled at the corners.

It looks like Baekhyeon truly is challenging him to say what’s so great about him. Sehun thinks he is past doubting himself, past thinking of himself as insufficient to appease Baekhyeon as his partner. He knows that, compiled, layered, he’s the person who makes Baekhyeon the happiest, which is more than telling of the significance Baekhyeon finds in him.

And yet he cannot come up with a single damn reason right now. Not a single characteristic of himself. Maybe it’s because it hasn’t been that long since he woke up, and his mind is still a swamp of murkiness.

So Sehun just groans in response, helpless.

Baekhyeon gets softer at once – from where he was already soft, getting a little closer to something even more immaterial, unreal, gentler.

“I mean,” he says, his tone matching his softening, as he slides a thigh over Sehun and clinging onto him, a little vine wholly dependent on Sehun’s frame. He swoops in and pecks Sehun’s nose on the very tip, impressing it with a dollop of sweet mist. “This nose is pretty great.”

“This sounds like double entendre,” Sehun responds, weakly, from under the ream of elation hampering his chest at Baekhyeon’s words, at Baekhyeon’s gesture.

“Oh.” His mouth rounds seamlessly with the vowel. “It totally is.” Baekhyeon winks, askew and greasy and not provocative at all.

He continues his journey. “This cheek is pretty great,” Kiss. “This jaw is pretty great.” Kiss. “This forehead is pretty great.” Kiss. “This temple is pretty great.” Kiss. Pause. “This eyebrow is pretty great.” Kiss. “This chin is pretty great.” Kiss.

Pause again. A longer one. Sehun opens his eyes.

 “And you,” Baekhyeon says. “You entirely. Especially when you let me slobber you up like this.”  

He waits a moment, after which he bursts into laughter, syllable by syllable, with tiny hiccups skipping in between. An ode of merriment performed right into Sehun’s face. “Actually, I don’t know either.”

His laughter shrinks into a smile. Broad, boxy. What Sehun sees is just the palest claret tint on his teeth, not more than the revenant of it, and now it dawns on Sehun, also based on the redolence of his breath, a bit acetic and dark, that he must’ve had a few sips of red wine at his outing. Certainly not enough to cause more than a negligible soupcon of inebriation. But maybe it counts as a bit of a nudge at his mood, to make him this jovial and sprightly.

It’s…a frontage. Some kind of coping.

Sehun stops himself from thinking into it.

“I really don’t know either. How can I not know? Just how are you that great?” He sucks in a breath, noisy, flashy.

It really is the time to be having meaningless chatter like this. This is perfect. This keeps them from capsizing into the loathed topic trying to claw at them, trying to pull them under and into the entrails of woe. Perfect.

He appraises Sehun. His gaze moulders, becomes nearly frigid as it roams Sehun’s face. It’s this scrutiny when he looks at Sehun like he’s not a person, like he doesn’t love him, but like he’s merely a structure of volumes and colours and textures. Sehun is more than used to being looked at this way.

After a few seconds Baekhyeon declares himself defeated and smiles, which then burgeons into this beam that is just kind of shy and kind of bewildered. “What I do know though, is that when you _do_ kiss me it’s pretty fucking great.”

“Pretty fucking great,” Sehun parrots. And he parrots everything. His grin too, his bashfulness too, his care, his want, everything.

“You really aren’t going to?” He blinks at him, scandalized and pleading all at once. And spews sound effects for each of them. Lastly, he pouts the poutiest possible pout.

This is not a show. This is Baekhyeon allowing himself to express with all he’s got just how much he wants Sehun. A theatrical like this represents the height of his sincerity.

It hits Sehun, a blunt blow, with panic, with impetuosity, with need. They’re running out of time. When Sehun is gone, fuck knows in what cranny of this country, alone, there will be no Baekhyeon in his lap, no Baekhyeon asking to be kissed. And he will regret this. He will regret not kissing him, not requiting his desires.

Sehun doesn’t even get to cup his jaw, doesn’t even do anything else but lean in. He closes his eyes at the very last moment, when Baekhyeon’s pout thaws into laxity, into a greeting and a gaping for Sehun to place his own lips upon. The touch burns, singes, the effect of it webbing, dispersing, some of it bodily and some not, some reaching straight to his groin, some just blooming in his chest. Kissing Baekhyeon makes him so full.

“Finally,” Baekhyeon sighs, not pulling away, but using Sehun’s mouth to say it, his breath.

They twist, fall, pursue. It’s needy, abyssal, a tad bit selfish, a tad bit forlorn. Baekhyeon’s chest is pressed to Sehun’s, as it should be. Sehun’s arms are around Baekhyeon’s waist, then his upper back, his ass, everywhere.

Good things always come to an end. Might be an abrupt, cauterized end, or an overlong drag. A desensitisation. So Sehun expected, feared that this will stop feeling as good after a while, that some of the wonderfulness will lessen as they got more and more accustomed to each other, as their life went on.

And yet. Yet kissing Baekhyeon only feels better, better, so much better. Sehun craves him more and more. This isn’t right, he also feels, for there to be no dwindling, for Sehun to feel such debilitating pleasure just from Baekhyeon licking into his mouth, his tongue asking Sehun’s for a dance, his fingers digging, shrouding, guiding, for their enthusiasm begins clashing in furores of spit, in thundery groans.

They end up stretched out on the couch, Baekhyeon under him, around him, in his mouth, under his skin, in his heart. His thighs are parted for Sehun.

Sehun has been kissing Baekhyeon for over halfway the time he’s loved him and he still registers everything as if it were new. The touches never feel far away, a mirage, whittled, blended. They’re kissing, but Sehun is actively aware of the hand Baekhyeon has on his jaw, fingers bordering his nape, encasing, but not pressuring. And he shivers for it, relishes. He also shivers for the nip of his nails at his side, on his hips, where his other hand is residing. Shivers for the feel of the tip of his nose pressed to his cheek. Shiver for the abridged glissade of his pelvis along Sehun’s, incidental. Shivers when he hears the mechanics of the pulling of wet flesh, the squelches, sounds short and tinkly, similarly lewd as they are beatific.

Sehun’s tongue peeks out slowly over the margin of their gentle kiss and into its playground, scoring a tease, a poke, asking Baekhyeon’s out to play a little dirtier. He giggles, short and breathless, before he cedes and begins toying with Sehun’s mouth messily, gladly. It’s not really a deepening, but more of a game, more an involvement, a closeness and a collaboration that is devoid of lechery even if they have their tongues down each other’s throats.

The harmony, or lack thereof, the pawing, the grazes, when they pull away only to go back in. It’s quite crude in fact, but above all, this is simply an act of attachment, of giving, a pleasure that has no objectivity whatsoever, but is something just for their understanding. Their warmth and their position, the both of them appressed, the joy of this proximity alone.

They break apart only because Sehun’s knee slides, and he has to catch himself before he falls off the couch. Baekhyeon grabs him by his shirt too, hand fisted into it to secure him in place as his eyes widen before they thin. “Caught you. You not going anywhere.”  

Sehun appraises Baekhyeon. His hair fanned out around his head and his cheeks ripe, and his lips, his lips are tumid, lucent, rubicund – the fruition of delight.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Baekhyeon nods, pleased with Sehun’s answer, with him being there, made cosy between his legs, and with absolutely no intention to split from him even for a moment.

He reaches for Sehun’s hair, combing it away from his eyes. It’s longer now, probably the longest he could ever remember having it. It’s alike a bob, layered, which makes it voluminous, tousled. “It’s just _begging_ me to play with it,” Baekhyeon declared right as he set eyes on Sehun’s new cut, with some sort of ache in his voice even, before he ran to him to do just that. It changed his image a bit, gave him a dash of androgyny, which fit surprisingly well with his physique. It’s maybe some sort of clinging too, defiance, walking into the base with it at this length.

It will all be shaved off before he even puts the uniform on for the first time.

The tenderness in Baekhyeon’s carding wanes, passes into frustration when he sees that the strands just _refuse_ to remain behind Sehun’s ears, flowing back down and covering his eyes. He’s battling gravity here, and he pouts too. Sehun smiles, lets him do his thing, right until the frustration ebbs out, and Baekhyeon gathers as much as he can of it into his fist.

He _pulls_. It rips out a moan from Sehun immediately, his cock jolting. Baekhyeon’s brows gather, his mouth parts, and he pulls yet again, harder, rougher – he knows exactly what this is doing to Sehun - and it has Sehun falling right into the gnaw of his kiss.

It’s not so playful anymore. No more frolicking.

Sehun groans, unrestrained. There is a sentiment this gives him that he cannot name, but it is the assemblage of all the intent behind this sort of kiss. Viscosity over the distension of their lips, thickness, messy so that Sehun feels saliva spreading way over the rim of his mouth. Fervour and smoulder from Baekhyeon’s touches, his roving hands. They’re not looking for a place, but just yearning to feel Sehun. A happiness budding in Sehun at Baekhyeon wanting him like this, closer, his lips urgent, his hips urgent.

“Baekhyeon,” he moans. Sehun has to moan it. “Baekhyeon.”

“I’m wearing something,” Baekhyeon stammers. And he’s bashful. Aroused. The sensualism of it curves, welds with the timidity.

“You’re what…” Confusion yanks at Sehun’s face.

Baekhyeon swallows, and only sneaks a palm between them, making Sehun lift himself off him a bit, only to reach and tug at his shirt, where only half of it still tucked into his pants. And then it comes free. The first thing Sehun sees is the small hill of his tummy flanking the press of the waistband around his hips. A wave of softness petering towards his belly button. And above there is…mesh.

“Is this…” Sehun drawls, halts, reels. He reaches himself to pull even more at his shirt, enough to reveal the two ribbons on either side, going over the protrusions of his hipbones and connecting to the bandeau around his waist. Oh fuck.

“You said you’d like this,” Baekhyeon says. A volatile tone, the question in it clear through the transparency. “You’d want to see me in something like this.”

The hand that had helmed the veer of Sehun’s tongue into his mouth traverses to his cheek, and with it he prays Sehun’s gaze stays on his face and away from his waist. He’s asking. Asking Sehun if this is indeed to his liking.

“Fuck. Yes. Yes, Baekhyeon. Yes,” Sehun intones, his tongue, his words stumbling over themselves as he dives straight for the skin, to kiss it, to peck it, to thank it. It’s joy, not erotism, an emotion wholly disconnected from the senses of his body. Because this really feels like a gift to him. He’s had this little fantasy for a while – it came into being suddenly, one day, when he had to put just one thigh high on for a photoshoot, and as he rolled it on, he wondered how it would look on Baekhyeon, and the thought grew from there, matured, leavened. It’s not overly hard to grant, not some elaborate or risky or utterly scandalous kink. Maybe it’s not even a kink. But Sehun remembers talking about it only once, in passing even, nothing more than a washy mumble when he was drunk. He would have never said it sober, because he presumed this was not something Baekhyeon was comfortable doing –  as much as Baekhyeon discounts the gendering of clothing and an array of other things, he’s expressed resolute disdain on all the occasions there were attempts at calling him what he isn’t, at undermining his identity, no matter how casual. And yet this has such a strict femininity associated to it that Sehun never thought he would…

But he did. He remembered, and did it for him.

So Sehun pecks him happily, lightly, everywhere between where the breadth of the garter belt spires around him and where the waistband of his pants sits. The yielding flesh dips under his lips, greets them. “I like it.  A lot. Thank you,” a nippier kiss, “Thank you.”

There is now no skirting of how sexual this is. When Baekhyeon grinds up, he aims for his cock, makes them rub together. He aims to entice. Rapidity and abrasion as they kiss, mercurial. He groans, instead of sighing, instead of purring, he _groans_ , raw, for this is now another kind of pleasure, switched completely into lasciviousness with the slant of context as to why they’re doing this and where it is leading.

Sex for them has a different meaning. Gives a fulfilment that is pervasive so that Sehun often thinks that there is nothing sexual about it at all. There is a clicking in their intimacy, something above verbal communication in it. He would never consider it superficial, nor something of a worth he would derogate.

Baekhyeon parts from him, gasping so hard that he can barely speak, can barely colour his breathing with syllables. And he tries, the brittle of his voice gossamer as he says, at last “I want to…”

His eyes flitter shut. Sehun sees the leavings of his eyeshadow, of his eyeliner between his lashes. His skin is sensitive by default, but around his eyes it is even more so, and he never rubs at them to remove everything. The darkness fencing his waterlines is a sight of extreme familiarity to Sehun. Of comfort.

“Anything,” Sehun responds, conditioned, reflexive, as he bows to peck right at the corner of his eye. He doesn’t need to say more than that, and Baekhyeon doesn’t need to finish his wish for Sehun to agree to it, obey it, surrender to it, whatever it is.

Baekhyeon only swallows, not saying more, already believing Sehun, already taking him, looking for his hand, the one splayed on his tummy. He screws his fingers with Sehun’s and tugs them both up and traipses through the apartment. Baekhyeon is ahead of him, dragging, as though Sehun wouldn’t follow him anyway, as though Sehun even _is_ anything but Baekhyeon’s will.

They enter the closet. It’s orderly. It always is. Even when the rest of his apartment crashes into chaos, his closet is spared, uncluttered.

The only mess becomes Sehun, when Baekhyeon begins pulling at his clothes straight away. He usually does it with care, with esteem, as he does with all garments, as though it is Sehun’s own skin he’s handling and not his shabby attire. He would fold everything, or put them onto hangers.

But not this time. Baekhyeon is looking for skin, looking to get him naked. Eager, hasty, concupiscent Baekhyeon, fiddling with his pants until they drop, along with his underwear, and his shirt is tossed over the tall dresser in the middle of the closet.

It was only three pieces of clothing, and now Sehun is denuded, all for Baekhyeon’s eyes to take in. Sehun likes watching him in turn, witnessing Baekhyeon’s reaction as he studies him. There is awe, there is appreciation, reverence, gaiety. Awe for the state of Sehun’s physique. Appreciation for he knows, first and foremost, just to what extent Sehun cares for himself, his diet and his exercise. Reverence for the kin of want, of need Baekhyeon himself has for him. And gaiety, for this is Sehun’s body, the body of the person he loves, and regardless of how it looks, Baekhyeon’s rose tinted glasses would have made him the most beautiful anyway.

A small smirk effloresces at the side of his lip, incising a little dimple into his cheek as his gaze falls to Sehun’s erection. “You haven’t even been touched yet.”

“I don’t need to be.”

It’s just Baekhyeon. To this day, just him. His aura and his voice, and the pure intent behind his every move that turns him on so fucking much. He doesn’t have to do anything to Sehun.

Baekhyeon comes forward, and kisses him from the centre of his chest, his nipples, back to his sternum, climbing him kiss by kiss and touch by touch, flutters of his lips, his tongue, feathery strokes on his collarbone as he rises to his toes, the kisses longer as he nears Sehun’s ear. "I want to tie you up,” he whispers, wet, not hesitant, but coquettish, maybe coaxing, as if he even needs to be like that.

 

Sehun seeks purchase on him, his shoulders, as Baekhyeon stitches kisses from his ear to his jaw, his cheek, and finally, his mouth. "I want to tie you up," he says again, mid kiss, tongue hitting Sehun’s lips with each sibilant. It doesn’t sound like a repeat. The first time it was to let him know, the second, he's voicing his command. Sehun moans, before replying, he moans, kisses Baekhyeon back. It’s filthy. He’s too turned on for this to grow steadily, for this to be a slow prelude, not when Baekhyeon is wearing that, not when—

 

"Tie me," Sehun whispers, so eager, so wanting. He buckles, grabbing onto him. Over his shirt, he feels the relief of the bands, the mesh around his waist. Sehun wants to _see_ it.

 

Baekhyeon’s head dips into a nod, into ease, before he simpers, lips stung.

He expects Baekhyeon to be reaching for a cravat, even a skinny scarf, something else, but he doesn’t even step away from Sehun. He just opens the drawer right by his side and takes out a lacquered wooden box. It’s the valuable jewellery box. He rarely wears valuable metals and stones, but in there he keeps the real gold, expensive jewels, although few. He single-handedly clicks open the lid and the light makes the contents boil with aureate twinkles. No need for browsing around, for Baekhyeon finds exactly what he wants in a blink – two aurous fibrils, decorated with braids of argent threads so fine they’re no thicker than a hair-breadth. The bracelets are so spindly, so fine that they seem to disappear when light doesn’t hit them directly.

They’re Baekhyeon’s favourites. He wears them together, and nothing else beside them when they’re on. His lucky ones – he’s bought them with his first salary at 76MM, right out of high school. They’re meant to be couple ones, but he’s never given the other one away. They’re both for him.

Sehun watches him curiously – maybe he wants to put them on for now.

But as he closes the box and pushes it away, he reaches for one of Sehun’s hands and twists it so the inside of his wrist faces up before he loops one of them around it. He locks it in place quickly at the last ring – the nail on his left thumb has always been a bit longer for this very reason. It fits snugly on Sehun.

Sehun peers at it – jewellery will never look as good on him as it does on Baekhyeon – but he’s still perplexed, still wondering what Baekhyeon is going to tie him with. And then Baekhyeon reaches for his other hand, puts them both to rest on his thigh. He takes the second bracelet, and slips the end of it under the one he’s already clasped on Sehun. The insides of his wrists press against one another as Baekhyeon fiddles, until the two gold bracelets are linked together, and Sehun’s hands, too, with them.

Sehun stares, incredulous.

Baekhyeon fixates on his handiwork, his eyes, his fingers, running them over the evanescent radiance of the wires. He smiles, enraptured, but there is an edge to it, a sharpness. He looks up at Sehun. “If you break them,” he says.

Sehun shivers. Fuck. His mouth doesn’t even get to open, overwhelming arousal barraging into his thorax.

These are precious. This warning isn’t just for the sake of the play. It’s not about the punishment, of Sehun not being a good boy. If Sehun breaks them he will feel horrible. It will mean destroying one of Baekhyeon’s most cherished possessions.

Sehun carefully tests their pull. He can barely feel it, and where he does, where the skin is thin and responsive, the sensation is akin to a cut, a laceration. They really are the thinnest, frailest binds, but Sehun has never felt more shackled, restricted, as though he’s held by a thousand fetters.

Baekhyeon rises. His hands on Sehun’s. His eyes on Sehun’s. His hips pressed against Sehun’s. “You won’t disappoint me, right?”

“Never.” Not willingly. And he hopes, not unwillingly either.

Baekhyeon kisses him. Up on his toes, his arms on Sehun’s shoulders, licking into his mouth harshly, lordly, until it softens, and he cups Sehun’s face in both of his palms. He rubs his nose along Sehun’s, scrunched, to make him grin, before he tugs him out of the closet.

The walk to the bedroom is short, no more than a few dozen steps, and yet they’re going slowly, like a stroll, as though they have nowhere to hurry, casual, instead of how fast it should be for how eager they are. The bedroom is Sehun’s favourite place in the whole apartment – Baekhyeon spends a lot of time in here, with or without him. It’s disorderly. His notebooks are here, his art supplies, his other trinkets, an empty coffee mug on the bedside table, his files from work. His life as a student interweaves with his life as a creative director, and Sehun is endeared by how apparent it is in this space.

They stop before the bed. Baekhyeon begins feeling him up, and he starts from the awkward placing of Sehun’s hands. He’s let them down, and they have to bracket his cock somehow, fit with it. He’s still so hard, his erection didn’t languish at all, even though it’s running solely on anticipation rather than on raw, direct stimulation.

Baekhyeon tugs him in, runs his hands all over his body, fingers fitting in all the grooves of his musculature. His ass, his back. He doesn’t even do more – not tickles, not scratches. Just the span of his palms feeling up his skin, making it attentive, warming it. And then his mouth, again, pressing to a nipple, soppy and open and soft, sucking on it, and then higher, kissing him again and again, Sehun’s mouth, Sehun’s neck, his tongue flattened under his jaw, stippling a wet runlet, and the tremblor of Sehun’s limbs augments lick by lick. He adores being covered in Baekhyeon’s spit like this, having it cool on his skin, leaving ephemeral laminas all over him, reminding him of all the places Baekhyeon’s mouth has been.

And Baekhyeon really doesn’t need to do more to turn him on, excite him – he’s already there, quaking, lusting - but above all what he wants—

“Please,” he sighs, “please let me see.”

Baekhyeon’s fingers are in his hair, and they tug just a little when Sehun says the first _please_. At the second, he feels the nails nicking his scalp. Sehun sees his toes curling into the fluffy rug that prefaces the bed, his feet pulling together, thighs closing. Fuck, how he likes it when Sehun implores him.

He lets go of his tresses, the back of his hand brushing Sehun’s cheek on the way, before he reaches for his own collar.

To some shirts, he only undoes the first few buttons before pulling it over his head. But not to this one. Sehun watches the buttons being slipped through the eyelets. He has a finesse at this, his digits incredibly quick, and it’s so fucking obvious that now he’s doing it slowly on purpose. Sehun hold his breath, and it hitches when he _finally_ makes it to the middle button, and the lapels of the shirt gape. He sees a fragment of the garter belt. Two more until the shirt is undone.

Baekhyeon lets it fall open. It doesn’t reveal much – the vale between his pectorals, the mild definition of his upper abdominals before it’s lost, and then the black, the _black_ of the belt, before his belly button, his undefined happy trail. He only allows Sehun to glimpse at him for a moment before he walks, taking the shirt off along the way, baring his back – his shoulder blades shifting together then apart - as he drapes it over the armchair in the corner of the room. He faces Sehun again.

His attention goes to Baekhyeon’s neck first, however, to the arabesque of slender chains evolving around it. It seems a two piece – first this wide lattice, and from the base of it a lavaliere is hooked, whose charm Sehun played with when they were on the couch. But the whole ornament is a choker, and it is made in such a manner that it must be squeezing around his neck. No way it stays that high without that. Baekhyeon _likes_ carrying this mild stress on his throat throughout the day just a little less than how he likes it when it’s Sehun’s hand doing the squeezing as he fucks him.

Sehun sees his torso, his nipples, the areolae soft as it surrounds the gently hardened nubs, the goddamn belt, the hold of it digging into his hips just enough to make the skin spill over, and then the garters going into his pants, him. _Him_. It’s not the first time he’s lightheaded purely because of Baekhyeon, of his beauty, and he needs him back, needs him close to see him properly, to feel him.

He takes a closer look at the belt, now what it is completely exposed. It’s not as delicate as he thought it would be. It doesn’t have a revealing sheerness, nor a melodious cut. The seams of it are blunt, the nuance solid. It’s not black, Sehun notices in this light, but a midnight blue, tending into aubergine. The finish of it is satiny, with a subtle shift, a glow. The mesh in the windows cutting through the width of the belt is dense, so Sehun can see its colour going faint, diluting with the tone of his light skin. Sehun entertains the thought that this might not have been an item designed for women at all. Or that Baekhyeon even got it custom made.

It is of a peculiar allure, over the top. It really shouldn’t be this seductive. Taken to the bareness of it all, it’s only a few pieces of fabric.  This is causing way more than he’s used to feeling just from seeing half of Baekhyeon’s body - to want him so fucking much.

He wonders what the stocking is like. What the sight of the whole ensemble will do to him.

Sehun’s fingers hook on the waistband, wanting to pull the pants down to see the rest, to see everything, but Baekhyeon only steps away from him.

“I’ll show you the rest soon. I’ll take care of you for now.”  

Before Sehun even gets to make a sound – of protest, of disappointment, of frustration – Baekhyeon has already reached the bedside table and opened the first drawer. He brings out a box.

It’s the lilac one. _The_ lilac one.

Sehun shivers yet again, his body tugging at itself. He feels a cry from the bracelets – they really are so light that he has to pay attention in order to notice them there, to not forget that he’s bound.

Baekhyeon puts the box down on the bed and looks up at him with the same regardful gaze, but more opaque. Nebulous, smelted. It drops to his shoulders suddenly.

Sehun is broad, muscular and strong. He’s been faithful to his workout regimen for so long, but Sehun still finds himself smiling because he nearly can’t believe that he’s reached the level where having his hands together like this would be uncomfortable. He feels the extension in his upper back, the bulging of his shoulders and his biceps noticeable as they squeeze close to his torso.

Baekhyeon seems to be noticing the same thing, for an amused simper buds on his lips, dimples and mischievous eyes. “My Sehunnie is just too swole,” he says, before he leans in and places a little, moist smack kiss on each of the arcades of his shoulders, where they join his chest and the strain is the sharpest.

He receives a third kiss, Baekhyeon rising on his toes to offer it to Sehun’s mouth. It’s a cinderous one that longs to sear, longs to brand.

“It’s not too bad though, is it?” he asks.

Even if it was, he doubts Baekhyeon would want to untie him over this, when it’s _exactly_ the reason Baekhyeon even picked such flimsy things to fasten him with to begin with – he likes being in control of a man so powerful that he could break them with the smallest twitch. And Sehun likes being under his whim.

He shakes his head. “It’s not.” If anything, it only aids him in remembering the fact that he’s tied, though he reckons even this one discomfort will be overshadowed by the others to come, and by the pleasures.

Baekhyeon presses up against him, touching as much as possible of Sehun. Sehun’s cock is in between them, to his belly, the head of it just over the belt.

“Don’t look,” he says, his hand reaching towards the bed without breaking their contact. Sehun closes his eyes to make sure he doesn’t see anything, obedient, impatient, curious. He hears the click of the box, and some other noises before Baekhyeon is back to breathing over his collarbone, but one of his hands grabs forcefully at his hip, then his ass, fingers plunging and releasing, taking a bounteous _handful_ , releasing, caressing over it.  

Sehun’s core simmers.

Baekhyeon gifted this box to him one day, all of a sudden, with no occasion for it other than that he wanted to get Sehun something. There are six plugs in it: 3 glass and 3 metal, all heavy, various sizes. The glass ones, though, are longer. They could pass for dildos, if it wasn’t for the flared base and too irregular shape to be good for thrusting.

Right now, Sehun can’t tell which one of them is tracing his crack, lubed up, smearing slipperiness all over. It’s so wet that the squelch is raucous, and Baekhyeon is teasing him with it, rubbing up and down, until the tip reaches his balls, and then back up. It’s not one of the smallest ones, that much Sehun can discern. Baekhyeon keeps feeling around, only to make Sehun push into it, want it. The hand on his ass tugs at the cheek, opens him up for the toy to have space. He finds the slight depression of his hole, and presses into it. Sehun jolts at the suddenness.

“Open your eyes, Sehunnie,” Baekhyeon says.

He hasn’t even realized that he’s kept them closed. He listens, and opens them. Baekhyeon is here, to his chest, gazing at him. Into him.

There is a bit of a gap however, caused by his arms, and he takes them out of the way by sliding them over Baekhyeon’s head, forearms resting on his shoulders. It’s better like this. They’re closer, the closest. Baekhyeon smiles, and then he pushes, _pushes_ , and Sehun’s mouth parts in enjoyment. It’s the stretch. Fuck, the stretch.

Baekhyeon didn’t ask anything else of him but to respond, to tell him, let it show on his face, plain, when it’s too much, when it’s good enough, as he works it into Sehun little by little. He’s heedful, making sure there is no trace of malaise on Sehun’s expression, letting him adjust before he increases the pressure. He can’t tell which one it is, until he reaches a point where the size doesn’t curtail. His thighs start trembling.

It’s the biggest one. Spheres melted on top of one another, a string of respites in between breadths. It doesn’t hurt. This isn’t pain, but something of a strength that he cannot attribute to comfort, nor define. All he knows that it makes him harder, his cock wetting Baekhyeon’s stomach and the belt, as he moans quietly.

It would’ve been different if he did this with prep – less exhilarant. He’s already aroused, in a regard that makes him accept the toy easier. A slow stretch cannot feel as enforcing as this, and Sehun loves it, loves it even more when it reaches the widest part, and it begins burning a bit, sizzling. Baekhyeon isn’t insisting with it when he shouldn’t, nor hurting Sehun. He knows to make the difference on Sehun’s face from discomfort to overwhelming pleasure. This is why he’s grinning, so turned on himself that he’s grinning, the smallest hint of it, beside the flushed skin, the soft panting, even though there is nothing being done to him.  

He thrusts it, a back and forth that is so concise it’s more of a rub, swirls it. Not a movement that is meant to feel good, but one whose aim is only to get the toy inside of him. He’s never used this one. The base of the second biggest of the glass ones is as wide as the middle of this one, which he did try. An insertion of this proportion feels foreign to him. When Sehun takes two thirds of it, Baekhyeon changes the tactic, and begins fucking him with it, angles it to stimulate him. His gaze is not leaving Sehun’s for a moment, not being distracted at all even as he does all of this without seeing what he’s doing. All he has are Sehun noises, moans, though not really, not fruiting yet, benediction, whispers. Certainly pleasure.

And then it’s in, all in, filling him, secure around his rim. It’s still cold, inflexible, _big_. Not a presence he can dismiss, not when it’s shape is this gibbous, titillating, and just the width of it makes it so his muscles will never completely relax around it. Baekhyeon wipes his lubed hand on his ass cheek, before he pinches the both of them, followed by weak slaps.

Baekhyeon upsurges to peck his cheek. “Good,” he says. Then he pulls back and stares up at Sehun. “Kneel,” he says, with the same tender quality of his praise –  quiescent but hefty, that it seems to push Sehun down by its mass alone.

His legs were about to give on him anyway. So he takes his arms from Baekhyeon’s shoulders and drops to his knees. He looks at the floor, and then at Baekhyeon’s feet, half covered by the hems of his slacks. The sock is sheer. Very sheer. Sehun wonders how high they go, if only up to his knee, to mid-thigh, or higher. He wants to see what’s under his pants, what the garters are tied to.

Baekhyeon’s hand winds in his hair. Sehun gazes up at him. Being here, cowering at Baekhyeon’s feet feels like the most natural thing, his knees cramping on him as he pleads for nothing more than the opportunity to satisfy him.  

Baekhyeon caresses along his nape, takes one step ahead, and slams Sehun’s face to his crotch.

He nuzzles into it immediately, traces the divots, the ascents, seeking to run his cheek along the erection hidden beneath. Baekhyeon’s hand in his hair pushes him forward, while he angles his hips towards Sehun, makes it so he can feel him properly.

He settles Baekhyeon’s length between his cheekbone and his jaw, the head just in the direction of his mouth. There aren’t as many layers of fabric as he expected. It’s lacking the extra texture of underwear. Sehun indeed has never mentioned any sort of panties to go along with this, even though normally this accoutrement is designed to include that too. That piece of lingerie was never part of what he wanted, and it seems Baekhyeon took that into account too.

Pressing closer, rubbing until his skin chafes a little from the stiffness of the pant. He can feel the throbbing, the twitching. The scent is clean, for he’s sure Baekhyeon has showered too recently for any sweat to have accumulated. But he persists, questing for a trace of musk – a scent that is not the rose of his shower gel. Something bodily, something Baekhyeon. He finds, however, the wetness near the head, the protrusion of it rounded, and the verge between it and the shaft evident – he’s pushing _that_ hard against the pants. Sehun would open his mouth to taste him through it, suck through some precome, but he cannot – Baekhyeon would never allow him to dirty his pants like that. It’s already surprising that he’s risking to stain them as it is. Sehun wouldn’t dare take what he wants without Baekhyeon explicitly allowing him to.

He wants to taste him so bad. He wants the fucking cock that he loves so much sliding down his throat just about now.

He raises on his knees a bit and only manages to attach his teeth to the button of the pants, but he can’t do more. He tries again and again, but the metal slips from his lips, his teeth. He doesn’t have any more luck with the zipper. He doesn’t want to dirty Baekhyeon’s pants with saliva either. Baekhyeon didn’t tell him anything about using his hands, but he assumes it’s a given that he shouldn’t. Otherwise, he would try to tug on the leg of his pants, try to slide them down his hips like that, but he doubts that would work anyway.

Sehun runs his closed mouth against the bulging shaft. Frustration, and want, makes him bold. “Give me,” he says.

“Give you what,” Baekhyeon asks, or doesn’t really, as he pulls at Sehun’s hair, hard and tight, and so unlike his tone, which is so breathy, so light, like he doesn’t even want to speak to Sehun.

“You.”

Sehun isn’t the one in command here. Baekhyeon shouldn’t be the one listening to him.

This is him cracking. His mien fissured by Sehun’s words. Baekhyeon gets off on being wanted like he does on nothing else.

Because just like that, Baekhyeon opens his pants. Button, zipper, then they’ve disappeared in a second, kicked away from his feet.

The very first thing Sehun’s gaze goes to are the fringes of the thigh highs, where they grip onto his thighs, having just a little hill of softness spilling around them. The material and the colour of the stocking itself catches shadows and lights differently than skin does. Each divot of his thighs and his hips are outlined - an enhancement of shapes that he has never seen exhibited in this manner before. His long legs are lean enough for muscle definition to show through, and diffuse higher up, get lost between his legs where he is plush. The curve up at the sides, where the thigh melts into the hip, is rounded, lissom, and incredibly alluring as it lined by the garters.

This is all an elaborate framing for his cock, all of the stripes of darkness of the direction his attention around his middle, his crotch. He doesn’t see it as contrast, but as erasure, as erasure and delineating, pushing the rest of him in the background and forwarding his sex. The showpiece. Hard, pink. A bit of pubic hair and the asymmetry of his balls.

What this hides and what it reveals: fabric and skin -  tissue of two kinds merging, teasing, maddening.

“Beautiful,” Sehun says, a voice already spastic, not his own anymore. Baekhyeon’s body is of such sensuality to him it’s fucking ridiculous.

“You too,” Baekhyeon’s reply comes just as fast. Sehun on his knees. Sehun before him. Not something about the position in itself, nor about the visuals of it. What Baekhyeon finds beauty in is Sehun giving himself like this.

“But do you like it? Like wearing it?” It wouldn’t be right, he feels, if it were just a compromise, just Baekhyeon indulging Sehun. He wants Baekhyeon to be into this too.

“I do,” he says. He rubs his legs together, stocking on stocking. The murmur of it is recherché, creamy, as though it has no tug. “It feels good.” His thumb hooks on the elastic pinning the material to his thigh and he presses, down and away, so Sehun sees the inscription of the grip on his skin, the coral. Sehun is struck by a weakening, his back bowing, his shoulders cowering at the display.

“And fuck, just _look_ what it does to you.” The curse word is spewed, incensed, while the rest is a trill of wonderment.

Sehun is hard. So hard. His cock is too big to ever raise, touch his stomach, to ever be this high. But it is now. The robustness of it is outstanding, and Sehun doesn’t have to look to know its complexion must be one of irate hues, scarlets and plums, not when he is made aware of it through the smarting he feels with each of the throbs. Yet another trickle of precome chases the previous one, not even a second later.

“How could I not like it.”

Sehun is entranced by the tone of that – the utter candour. He hunches, drags himself a little closer, to fit himself between Baekhyeon’s legs. It’s the nearest he can be.

He cannot touch with his hands, not from this position, he can only run his face along his thigh, on the stocking, until he meets skin, soft, delightful skin, and kisses it, bites it, lavishes it, like all of Baekhyeon deserves. It’s high enough that only the finest of hairs dust the flesh, tickle his lips, until he reaches the linear lacuna of his hip flexor. He fits his nose into it and lets it guide him to his balls. He finds some of his natural scent there, the rose faded, and he just stays there, taking in a few breaths.

Then all he does is part his mouth. Let it hang open as wide as it could go. Invite him. Offer him. Or be offered. He doesn’t know who is gratifying who here - it’s reciprocal.

Baekhyeon holds his jaw as he steps closer, his feet on either side of Sehun’s thighs, legs just about pressed to Sehun’s shoulders. From here, it’s the smoothest thing for Baekhyeon’s cock to slide between his lips. He detects the throbbing of the fine skin as it goes farther, docking on his tongue. He is given the first taste of precome. It’s generous. He laps at what has smeared around the whole head. It has fanciful savour. Objectively, he recognizes that it’s not that good – with its saltiness, poignancy - it’s not good at all. But Sehun is starving for it. And he goes farther down, on his own strength, Baekhyeon being still, doing nothing more than holding gently onto his jaw.  The whole head to passes through, stopping into the cradle of his tongue. The girth of the shaft pulls at his lips as the weight draws it deeper. It’s comfortable. A slotting of Baekhyeon’s erection and his mouth. Textures that match, forms that match.

Swallowing him down, his jaw hinging, opening as much as it can. It’s so fucking good. It always is. He puts effort in it, the tongue and the sucking and the bobbing, covering his teeth while making sure his cheeks are sucked in, and his tongue flexed to guide just the very tip of his cock towards the roof of his mouth. He’s here to give his everything to Baekhyeon after all.

And yet, it seems it’s not enough.

“You can take all of me,” Baekhyeon avers. It’s not a question, nor an urging, but an assured statement that Sehun _can_ swallow him to the hilt.

It’s easier for him if he stays on his shins, given Baekhyeon’s height, so when he presses in, opens up Sehun’s throat, some of the pressure is taken off the back of his tongue and added to his palate instead. It takes a few tries, choking and strain, until Sehun does take him whole. He’s right there, down his throat, all of him, pulsing, as Sehun wills himself to hold his breath to not cause any spasms. Baekhyeon moans, _superb_ , and Sehun is compelled to last for just a little longer, a few more seconds, and swallow around him once. He feels the clamping of the motion, the discomfort, only for Baekhyeon to moan _again_ at that.

“You knew too,” he whispers gently when he releases the hand he had on the back of Sehun’s head – he didn’t even realize Baekhyeon was holding him there. He takes in a few congested inhales before he nods, and repositions himself for Baekhyeon’s cock to enter his mouth again.  

He stresses the depth while engaging in a jounce, the head of his cock hitting his throat each time, the length rubbing against his cheeks and his lips. Baekhyeon isn’t silent. His moans are unflattering, songful ribbons, as they’re wont to be when the pleasure doesn’t allow him to breathe properly. He’s not moving though. His hips are still. Sehun feels the craning of his head isn’t enough - the grip of his throat, his sucks, his pace are not good enough. He keeps at it however until he yet again runs out of air before he slowly lets the shaft slide out, allowing his lip line with the plica of the corona so he can give a tongue kiss to the tip of his cock, before he lets go of it.

A filament of precome mixed with spit follows his lips, tethering his mouth to Baekhyeon’s cock.

He peers at Baekhyeon, frustrated again, and kind of pleading. It’s hard to find words. He feels his mouth shouldn’t be used for speaking now, it should be fucked.  And Baekhyeon - ruddy, pretty, but otherwise, still composed - already gets it.

“Love,” he says, and maybe there is a moan in there too, “do you want me to choke you? Do you not feel used enough?”

It’s precisely that. He nods, vigorously, as he looks up at Baekhyeon. He sees the weakest trace of conflict passing by his face, before he acquiesces, and without preamble, he grips Sehun’s nape and yanks him forward.

Sehun takes all of him in one go, fights for air while he lets Baekhyeon fuck into mouth. He didn’t hesitate at all. The tempo is harsh from the start, his chin is reaching Baekhyeon’s balls every time, though he never pushes hard enough that Sehun’s nose touches the skin above his cock – Sehun has voiced one time that while he likes this level of ruthlessness, he harbours the fear that a facefucking as harsh as he prefers would break his nose.

Though he is no longer a novice – he’s been in this position countless times, there are reflexes his body refuse to cede. They won’t let up under his will. So he gags, forces. It’s an effort of an odd technique, his body working against his mind, trying to overpower one another. It hurts too, aches and throbs all through his skull, and something in his being is not letting up, not allowing him to keep still enough.

But it’s nothing. It’s nothing. Sehun would move his bones out of the way to make space for Baekhyeon, to give him the best, because God, there is nothing Sehun wouldn’t do for him.

His own arousal, excitement, the ache of his cock- it’s all substratal. What he feels is affection, stronger than anything else, monopolizing him.

He commits a venial mishap soon, however, when the speed reaches a high that makes the motion jerky, and the trajectory of it goes askew, which has the weight of his cock pressing on the back of his tongue. Sehun gags immediately, his teeth closing over the shaft. He rectifies himself as soon as he can, but not fast enough to miss Baekhyeon’s hiccup of pain. Sehun, without conceding himself any recess, looks to mollify it once, forgoing his need for air, ignoring his aches, only to soothe the area he’s wounded, and bring back the pleasure.

Baekhyeon didn’t get mad. The astringency that now coats his exploitation of Sehun isn’t a form of punishment, but a surety – Sehun won’t be gagging a second time for the same reason. One of his hands is in his hair now, the other migrated to his neck, and now he presses from both directions – Sehun’s head towards him, and his hips towards Sehun. There is no control left for Sehun. There is nothing else but for him to be still and _take it._ He goes to his happy place, as when he’s working out and it burns and he’s at the end of his strength. His happy place being Baekhyeon and the knowledge that this feels so so good to him. He shuts out his other senses, and chooses to only listen to his moans. They sound different from when it’s a regular blowjob - when it’s slow, and Sehun is the one holding the reigns. Here, now, power play is involved. Sehun’s docility and Baekhyeon’s assertiveness, and lastly, the snap of his hips, the cramping of Sehun’s throat, the fact that Sehun wouldn’t be able to stop it like this, not at all, nor say anything, and yet he still allowed, _asked_ Baekhyeon to do this to him. _These_ moans are something else entirely, too grave, too rich, too coarse. They’re the root of Sehun’s enslavement to this practice.

“Like this?” Baekhyeon says, words barely enunciated. “Must be like this.” Three of the hardest, deepest thrusts, and Sehun’s eyes shed a pair of tears for each, but he keeps still. “You’re doing so well. So well. I probably can’t fuck you harder even if I tried.”

For Baekhyeon, this isn’t an enactment. There is no script, no third party to please. Baekhyeon doesn’t have to be rough with him, merciless just for the sake of being merciless. Display hauteur and no leniency. Baekhyeon can smile at him while he uses him – Sehun hears the smile in his voice -  can praise him while he uses him.

He lets go of Sehun, guides him off his cock. Sehun is allowed to breathe now, and for a second he is too out of it to react before he collapses with his temple to Baekhyeon’s thigh, taking in short, quick inhales. Baekhyeon is breathless too, hushful, as he whispers assurances to him, lightly carding his fingers through his hair, particularly around the area where he pulled. Sehun snuggles into him. The garter is against his skin and he’s dizzy. But good dizzy. Wonderful dizzy. He waits until the wateriness of his eyes diminishes.

His mouth feels empty. It’s off. It shouldn’t be empty.

Ever since Sehun learned to see colour – since Baekhyeon taught him to pay attention to it - he has a thing for this seeing Baekhyeon’s cock when it’s at its hardest, enlarged, shiny, the tinge of the pulled skin vivid, contrasting starkly with the tone of the rest of his skin. Really, all Sehun sees is cock. And all he wants.

“Once more,” he says. Shaky.

Nothing about this is elegant by now – it is only the manifestation of a basal need from both of them. Sehun doesn’t feel any shame for being in this position, nor aversion, no matter how unsightly it must be, as he asks to be used like this.  

There is no hope for the harassment of his gag reflex to relent. The ramming isn’t steady. He doesn’t know when to breathe, when to prepare himself for his nose to be touching his pubic bone, when to relax his tongue for the head to slide down the back of his throat as it should. His stomach knots, riots, warns him of the gale building in his gut. The sides of his face are brindled ceaselessly by tears.  And fuck if he doesn’t love the fact that now he feels Baekhyeon has lost control, the way he clutches at his hair, his thrusts, that’s why they are so unmindful, for Baekhyeon is lost in this, enough to not regulate himself, not abstain at all, disregarding Sehun’s comfort completely.

It’s beginning to feel distressing. Fear, panic. It hurts, his lungs and his bones, his ribcage compressed. His reflexes will kick in soon, break free of his resolve and bring him from defence into offense. It’s close. He feels his body tensing, just bordering into frenzy from the lack of air. He reaches the very limit as Baekhyeon thrusts once more before he releases him.

Nothingness after all that abuse is impairing, dismembering, and Sehun nearly falls over, if it wasn’t for Baekhyeon directing him back into his hip. He’s missed air so bad, and as he now breathes, his lungs burn, unused to the free flow of it. He feels the spit on his chin and his lips smearing on Baekhyeon’s thigh, but he cannot move right now. Baekhyeon holds him close, petting his head, as Sehun pulls himself together. It takes a while. The hinge of his jaw smarts, and his throat feels skinned, as when he has a cold. He swallows repeatedly – the taste of Baekhyeon hasn’t dispelled. He considers it his own now – the taste of his mouth shall always be that of Baekhyeon’s precome. He does feel used. Battered. Content.

Sehun isn’t heaving anymore, and he kisses randomly at Baekhyeon wherever he can reach, snuggling into him all the while Baekhyeon caresses him.

When he gets up, Baekhyeon is looking at him, clouded, frenzied. And proud, resplendent, fond. “Thank you, love,” he says, a gratitude so devout it shrouds Sehun with affection. He nears him, touches him low on his stomach, trailing beside his length until he swipes one finger over the head of Sehun’s cock – it aches, and he flexes periodically for it to serve as _something_ \-  and he picks up some precome, brings it to his lips, licks it off. Offhanded, like they’re the drippings of a melting ice cream, a stray dollop of something delicious that he cannot miss. He goes back in for a second helping, this time keeping his digit on his tongue of a few moments, just enough for Sehun to fall under the spell of the sight.

Sehun sketches a simper – Baekhyeon isn’t doing this just to taunt him, but because there are few things he would prefer over the taste of Sehun. The third time he approaches, he simpers too, tiny and erose, as he delves into the slit till his nail kisses the flesh with a scrape. He keeps it there, immobile but firm, until precome begins contouring his digit, pooling around it, but instead of bringing it to his mouth, as Sehun expected, Baekhyeon skids his finger along his length, his blunt nail grazing down the shaft ever so slightly, following the wire of precome that runs over the tawny suture between his balls. Sehun’s perineal raphe is quite pronounced, and Baekhyeon’s thumb toys with it. It’s nearly casual, absentminded, as though it’s just a tick.

Baekhyeon seeks his eyes, and he holds his gaze, ties them tight, right as he gathers the soft skin between his testicles in his fingers and _pinches_. Sehun collapses, moans, pain consuming his abdomen, heightening, because Baekhyeon hasn’t let go of it yet, and the ache quells by the edges, in time with his vision darkening, until Sehun falls into Baekhyeon’s chest, his jaw over Baekhyeon’s shoulder. He stops then. Stops and instead strokes the area gently. Sehun breathes out, hard, feeling a bit faint. Baekhyeon’s hand threads through his hair, over and over, cups his nape and presses Sehun’s head into him, holds him. And then, as he lets go of his balls and he finds Sehun’s hands, tied, squashed in between them, along with their cocks somewhere. Baekhyeon wreathes his palm in between Sehun’s, and rubs at one of them.

In his ear, he whispers, “Do you want more?”

Baekhyeon twists to look at him. Peer at him. He always expects no for an answer. Baekhyeon likes some pain too. He likes being spanked, likes being bitten, bruised, likes the blistering sting when he asks Sehun to take him without prep. However, after he’s tried it too, he said he cannot really comprehend how Sehun can like this. Can like it so damn much.

And yet, he does it so well. Can read Sehun so well and attune his ministrations to his reactions, calibrate it in such a way that Sehun feels like he blacks out before his orgasm even nears.

“Please,” Sehun pleads. Maybe it’s not really a begging, but more of an assurance to Baekhyeon of how much he wants this done to him. “More.”

Baekhyeon nods, assents, and with a small pull, he guides Sehun towards the bed by his hand. It’s unmade, but the pillows and the duvet aren’t rumpled – Baekhyeon’s afternoon naps are never fretful. Still, he takes the duvet and throws it aside before he grabs one of the pillows and settles it in the centre of the mattress. “Careful,” he murmurs, his hand slipping by Sehun’s ass. He forgot about the plug. Not that he got accustomed to its fill inside of him, but he got distracted. But it takes little work to settle himself as Baekhyeon wants him. The headboard has some cut outs, geometric shapes punched in the wood, covered by ebony velour, and Sehun stretches out, puts his tied arms over his head, and grips at the headboard through one of the lowest perforations. Baekhyeon didn’t tie him to the bed, but he doesn’t need to. He trusts Sehun to keep himself immobilized. He rearranges the pillow under Sehun’s head until he’s sure it’s comfortable. Sehun smiles at him in confirmation.

Then he hops in between Sehun’s legs. Closer and closer, Sehun parting them more and more, just until his feet are off the edge of the bed. Baekhyeon, pleased, settles on his knees. They’re spread wide, shins underneath himself. It somehow reminds him of their position when they’re using the double ended dildo, when they’re opposite one another and grinding towards the same point, moaning as they hold hands – since they can’t kiss – and fuck each other so good. But now it’s not this circumstance. Now Baekhyeon only places his opened knees on either sides of Sehun’s thighs to keep them parted, locked, in a way that Sehun cannot close his legs as they are straightened out, but only if he bends them. Which he will not do. The same as with his arms, Baekhyeon doesn’t need to physically bind him. His wish is enough for Sehun to be pinned in place for good, however Baekhyeon wants.

Baekhyeon touches his cock. Up and down, with the back of his hand. The knuckles dragging the length, grappling the foreskin. This is not the motion of a jerk off. It’s only Baekhyeon’s hand getting acquainted with the skin of it, warming it, befriending it, making it accept it. In itself, it’s the same movement as he sometimes caresses Sehun’s face out of nowhere just to tell him that he loves him. Nothing more.

It is the very same action, but what Sehun expects from it is decidedly dissimilar. This only serves as a priming for something that won’t be simply pleasant like this. Baekhyeon uses his thumbnail to trace the crown of his cock, ending with a sharp grate at the frenulum. Instead of irritation, this only causes him impatience, agitation for more, _harder_. He raises his hips to nudge Baekhyeon into starting already, and he was not ready for Baekhyeon to respond to it in an instant and slap the fuck out of his nuts. 

Sehun cries out, his pelvis folding towards his spine. His thigh tense, press into Baekhyeon’s knees as his legs try to close to protect himself. It always hurts the most. The first blow. The one that is not quite welcomed yet, and his body wants to get him away from it. His feet slip and his lungs lock. His mouth cannot pick a sound to make, one of pleasure, or one of pain, for what he feels through his core are interspersing bouts of each, not a mixture.

But it will be just this one.

Sehun exhales. Relaxes. He gives Baekhyeon a nod.

And from here, there is no caesura.

Slapping, with nails, without nails, with the back of his hand, with his full palm, fingers curled. Crashing his balls against his cock, and hitting his cock too, pulling and pinching at his sack, hitting some more. Fast, hard. It always takes a while for all of his responses to be positive, and by the time Baekhyeon has closed his hand into a fist, and slammed his balls to his perineum with it, a bit of satisfaction accompanies the infernal anguish. The way he’s struggling suggests he’s both asking for more and wanting it to stop, while he’s silent, his mouth, his eyes, closed as the furore ravages through him.

“Moan for me, love, I need to hear that you like me hurting you like this,” Baekhyeon says, moving a hand to his thigh, massaging there.

It’s pain. He can admit to the fact that it fucking hurts. But while it is pain, it isn’t harm. It isn’t noxious. It’s at the point where is truly, remarkably pleasurable. Now, Sehun can give him the moans.

He lets Sehun come down from a series of strikes that has innards flaming, and his eyes do too. It’s truly incapacitating, the degree and amount of excitation incommensurable, especially around his crotch and low in his gut. Sehun can’t get enough of it.

Baekhyeon is still keeping him open with his knees, and he crouches, mouth open, to bite at Sehun’s cock as he pulls at his balls, stretches them away and away, until the skin smarts. It’s shallow, and yet the ache of it is deep, a fitting enrichment to the mayhem in his torso.

It keeps him in the high, prepared. He knows this isn’t the worst, or the best of it. He’s waiting for Baekhyeon to raise himself and step on his nuts or something. A spectacular level of aggression.

Sehun already senses the familiar, yet bizarre sort of build-up. He cannot come from this. Yet his body is looking for some sort of culmination, some sort of epilogue given how strong these sensations are. He waits for that peak to come.

Baekhyeon halts for a moment, and bends to bite at his sack, properly, chiselling the skin. He slides upwards, giving the same treatment along the way, until he reaches the ligature between the scrotum and his cock, and gives that a bite that certainly feels like it cut the skin, even though it didn’t. The place palpitates, heats up.

He pulls away, and waits for that to cool down, and Sehun’s quavering to lessen. Sehun nearly lets his guard down, expecting nothing else to come for now, and this is when Baekhyeon delivers three consecutive punches so hard, so focused that Sehun’s legs nearly break free, his knees pulling towards one another, and his back tightening, bowing inward, in an obvious, hectic bravura of resistance and safeguarding. Before he gets any chance to regain clarity and breathe, there is another blow, Baekhyeon pulling his cock out of the way and kneeing the living daylights out of him with enough force that it pushes him towards the headboard. Sehun has never had a scream breaking out of him like this, with a ferocity and loudness that rasped through his throat and mouth on its way out. It happens now, however, over and over, as he falls into quivers, and breathing breaths that seem insufficient, like there is so much sensation in him that there is no space left for air anymore.

Baekhyeon is here, covering his body with his own, face in Sehun’s neck as he kisses him, his temple, his cheek, his jaw, as Sehun is still thrashing, not knowing how to get a grip on himself yet, the pleasure eating at him incessantly, his cock pulsing and his heart racing. Baekhyeon has released his legs, has taken his hands from the headboard, and he lets Sehun curl into him as they press together, as Baekhyeon rocks with him. His kisses aren’t kisses anymore, but pacifiers, sweeteners, as he murmurs into them “You took it so well. I’m so proud, love.”

Baekhyeon really has never hit him like this. Has never taken his vision away from him, pleased him so much that he felt bodiless. Sehun is surprised himself that he withstood it, and that it felt so good.

It takes a long time for Sehun to come down, and Baekhyeon doesn’t stop pampering him with praise, kisses and touches even when, at last, he calms. He keeps Sehun warm when the sudden lowering in his temperature hits, from when the shiver of his muscles transits into one out of nippiness, his skin pimpled from it. Baekhyeon holds him tight, as he sometimes does when Sehun can’t sleep at night, and he’s just there with him, reminding him of his presence. Which is all Sehun needs.  

The chillness dissipates too, and Sehun has now slipped out of the subspace.

Baekhyeon rises and looks at him. “Are you okay? Okay okay?” The frown on his face is of pure concern, seriousness.

This sort of thing is very risky. There is the chance of causing permanent damage, ruptures, severe bruising, actually _crushing_ his testicles. It’s not like they aren’t aware of this.

Sehun takes his time paying attention to himself – certainly not a matter to be gauged with nonchalance. Other than the lingering feeling of abuse – a bit of swollenness, heightened sensitivity, a light ache -  there isn’t anything that seems to be off.

“I’m good,” he says. He licks over the dryness of his lips. Baekhyeon’s solemnity vanishes, and a tiny, relieved smile flowers in its place. Sehun can’t stop himself from blurting out, “I’m proud of you too.”

This wasn’t a first just for Sehun. Baekhyeon using the power he gave over him like this is remarkable. As much of a sadist Baekhyeon is, it’s never overridden his worry and caution, and it hasn’t now either, but he’s pushed his own boundary a lot.

“Love,” Sehun adds a second later, only, _only_ to see Baekhyeon preening a little, his mouth coiling as he gratuitously accepts Sehun’s compliment.

“I’ll make you feel good for real now.”

“It was so good,” Sehun voices.  He’s in a daze. When he got the toy inside of him and when he facefucked him and this too. Everything. So good. There was no orgasm yet, and he feels there won’t be one for a while, but Sehun is just feeling so good right now.

Baekhyeon smiles, blushes, as Sehun brings him even more laud. Cute, puppily Baekhyeon. Sehun’s heart swells. “But I mean, _just_ good.”

He stretches over Sehun to get to the bedside table. He brings out a small box, and it takes a few blinks from Sehun to realize it’s a condom box. It’s still sealed, and Baekhyeon rips the plastic of it with his teeth. Sehun is ever so slightly intrigued. Wearing a condom lowers Baekhyeon’s sensitivity significantly, to a degree that he can ascertain an arrant, broad difference between his styles of fucking based on whether he is wearing one or not. Sometimes, he can’t even come. Doesn’t mean they do it bare often, or that they even do penetrative sex often to begin with – perhaps a few times a month, considering what a hassle the clean-up is - but he was expecting that a fuck on such a day would be without the condom.

Baekhyeon takes one out and throws it into the sheets along with the lube bottle before he leans over Sehun gain. He reaches for his hands, and rubs around his wrists in lenitive circles. “You can keep them however you want,” he whispers.

Sehun chooses to keep them the way they are, stretched over his head, though not hooked onto the headboard. There is too much tension in his fingers, they’ll begin cramping on him and he won’t be able to hold onto it anymore anyway. Might be a bad decision to trust himself on keeping them together without the aid he has previously had, but there is no other option.

Baekhyeon simpers at him once more before he palms the backs of Sehun’s thighs. He’s middling Sehun, folding him with naught but an intimation of a push. Sehun conforms, bares, displays. He’s all Baekhyeon’s isn’t he. For the taking, for the loving. Being this open to him, for him, is nothing he would have any hesitance towards. Baekhyeon slides himself closer, on his knees, until his thighs frame Sehun’s ass.

He feels the toy nudging. Baekhyeon twists the base a few times, flicks it. It touches in all the right places, and Sehun moans at that. He’s been wanting for it to move, being as there has been pressure against his prostate all along - the toy is simply too thick for it to miss, and its shape is too unforgiving, remindful, so it never let Sehun truly forget about it. But he’s also accustomed, relaxed, so its shifting is naught but a joyance. As Baekhyeon pulls it out and places it on the nightstand, he feels the loss of it right away. It was heavy. It took effort to even keep it inside, and now there is a lightness that he doesn’t like.

Baekhyeon still uses a few fingers, just two, to prod at his entrance – the toy is indeed thick, but it’s still the thinnest right where he needs the stretch the most, where the muscle wasn’t schooled into letting up by it. He only slips into Sehun to gauge his slackening.

Sehun doesn’t really need this. Not anymore – after how many times Baekhyeon’s fucked him, with his cock, his fingers, a toy. Stretching isn’t necessary for insetting, but Baekhyeon still takes his time fingering him with every occasion. He bites his lip as he teases the rim with a third finger, but he doesn’t let in it. Instead, he uses his two digits to find Sehun’s prostate _only_ to avoid it. He’s riling himself up with this, not Sehun. He feels so good around Baekhyeon’s fingers that it makes him impatient, restless – Sehun witnesses the flex of his cock against his belly with each of his thrusts – and there is where Sehun’s pleasure comes, not from the fingering itself, but from seeing how much Baekhyeon wants to bury himself into Sehun.

He puts the condom packet between his teeth with his other hand. He keeps it there for a while longer, reluctant to slip his digits out of Sehun yet. He looks over as smiles a bit, his perfect teeth showing, the corners of his eyes pinched down. Sehun’s heart skips a beat – this is an image so charming, a tad boyish, a tad flirty, a tad smug, as though he isn’t _already_ in Sehun’s pants and his everything else. Sehun falls for him a bit more. A bit more. A bit more every day, as he’s proven over and over that there is _still_ room for that.

His little act scatters soon though, as he rips open the packed to take out the condom and slide it on. Sehun can usually keep up with his deftness, but his mind is sluggish now, beclouded, and he misses everything – Baekhyeon stroking himself, his hips pushing into his hand, lubing himself up, the repositioning. All he has is the image of him between Sehun’s legs, the dark of the garters cutting into his upper thighs and hips, his left thigh-high dropping a little lower than the other, before he’s over Sehun, his messy hair falling over his face and it doesn’t even take any fiddling, not even a searching with the head of his cock along Sehun’s crack – it’s an instantaneous slotting and a sink, as swift as it is prudent.

There is an initial emotion he always associates with Baekhyeon penetrating him – blessedness. It’s ingrained, somewhat unreasonable, but he hopes it won’t ever stop happening. There is nearly no difference in shape between Baekhyeon’s cock and some toys, the kind of fullness he can occasionally get from fingering alone. Maybe it’s in the malleability, the moulding, the hotness, the fill. Sehun cannot pinpoint what is really the cause, but it’s a lovesome, invaluable thing to not be able to stop smiling, to share a first moan through a simper as they settle into one another.

He starts moving immediately and Sehun is yet again bewildered, by the style, by the angling, for while it feels amazing to him – his prostate hit dead on - he’s sure it doesn’t feel that good to Baekhyeon. He luxuriates in the feeling for a long while, for it seems he is the only one who matters in this, and later – when Sehun is already a bit mindless, for fuck, it feels so good – he realizes there will be no coming for either of them.

Sehun cannot come either way, not so close to the busting. The tenderness hasn’t subsided yet, it’s still there, and he is aware that for just a little longer he wouldn’t be able to.

Baekhyeon caught on the fact that he caught on too, and gives him a fleeting leer, before he amps up the pace.

Sehun moans. They come easily to him now, when, as he was promised, he’s being given _just_ pleasure. The soliloquy courses in glissandos from his mouth, their volume proportional to how good he is feeling. The sounds are ugly to his own ears, clipped and gravelly, taut, nasal, gasps and the pressure in his lungs. Still, he isn’t ashamed of them. They’re natural, honest. He wouldn’t be able to control them anyway, and Baekhyeon needs to know, to hear how much he’s enjoying him, savours him. Why be ashamed over something like this. Over being lost in a pleasure so high, so deranging.

The tips of Baekhyeon’s hair brush over Sehun’s cheek as he moves. Back and forth, back and forth. It tickles, and sparks something inside of Sehun - laughter, endearment -  a feeling so innocent compared to the brutality of Baekhyeon snapping into him. The brusqueness of it isn’t denoted by his pace, though, nor by the strength of him pressing into Sehun, pushing him forward with each thrust. It’s in his drive, his will, and the eurhythmy of his precision, making sure that Sehun feels the best he could be feeling. Sehun is hurting in so many places – his hips, his arms, his ass from where Baekhyeon’s hips collide with his cheeks, and his cock, still, the throbbing of it supplemented with flares of irritation, and yet Sehun feels so taken care of, so spoiled, so treasured.

The built of it is slow, foreign, somewhat lacking, a pleating of interims, as prostate orgasms are wont to be. Sehun can never get used to the oddity of this brand of acclivity – to its intensity and span, how much it involves each part of his body instead of being limited to his groin.

As Baekhyeon bends over him, bracing his arms on either sides of Sehun’s head crowding into his space, Sehun can see him better. His parted, cerise mouth. The scale of sweat, the glitter of effort, _of giving_ , coating the side of his neck. The translucence of his eyes as he gazes at Sehun, focused and defocused at the same time, and brimming with warmth.

Sehun doesn’t even discern the thrusts anymore – it’s too fast maybe, the climb of the pleasure is too steady, and the only count he has is that of Baekhyeon’s pants, the gasps and groans twined in them. Even as he feels the seizing in his body, the nearing of his climax, Sehun still chooses to focus on him till the very last moment.

When it hits, it’s as though it came out of nowhere, and the impact of it is immense, knocking all the air out of him. A dry orgasm is an alloy of bizarre reactions, the intemerate bliss making him feel unbodied, while the tautness and flexure of it anchors him to its sensations, his body is frantically grasping at itself so hard that Sehun fears it would snap his own bones.

Baekhyeon fucks him through it all. Sehun cannot keep his eyes open, but through the gaps, he catches glimpses of Baekhyeon’s strained face, his open lips, the resonant moan. Sehun must be clenching around him so hard, moving his hips towards his cock, stretching out Sehun’s orgasm as much as it could be stretched.

Before he stops, he hears, over his own last gasp, Baekhyeon moaning in his neck and pulling out.

He was _so_ close. His chest is heaving and his hips are twitching, seeking to not touch Sehun, nor any surface, for he would probably only need the smallest touch on his cock to come. 

Sehun twists his head, and through his own pants, peppers kisses on any part of Baekhyeon that he can reach. His jaw, and the underside of it mainly. It’s only now that he notices that Baekhyeon isn’t braced on his elbows anymore. One of his hands is over Sehun’s wrists, the fingers clamped tight. Sehun wants to ask him why he’s holding onto him, but he will a little later, when Baekhyeon can breathe again. That happens soon, without Sehun saying anything.

“You would’ve broken them,” he speaks, tone dipped in wander. “I don’t think you even realized when you started pulling.”

Sehun gapes. He, indeed, hasn’t realized it. “Thank you,” he mutters instead of apology. He really loves just how much Baekhyeon can pleasure him, too much it seems, he didn’t even think his body could feel so much at once, so much contentedness and so much delight. And Baekhyeon is offering him that, and he will forever be grateful for Baekhyeon being in his life like this.

Baekhyeon smiles, and Sehun kisses it, softly, tiredly. “My pleasure,” he grins then. He’s aroused. Happiness and arousal mixed together on his face, two shades of pink and two shades of darkness. Gorgeous.

Voracious peck. Not deep. But long. A contact prolonged, kept, until a layer of skin cannot distinguish itself from the other. Because Baekhyeon is nothing if not a benevolent lover.

It doesn’t end here. This is naught but a brief pause for them to catch their breath and to snuggle a bit. Sehun won’t make any comments about Baekhyeon being slightly out of shape, but he can tell that this is why Baekhyeon is so soft on top of him. He really worked himself to exhaustion for Sehun. He pecks his temple in gratitude, and Baekhyeon leans into it with a toothless, dimply simper.

Sehun only notices the plug being back in Baekhyeon’s hand when it touches his perineum. He gathers his legs, closes them, and shakes his head. Baekhyeon looks questioningly at him, surprise sloping his brows.

Sehun noses along his jaw before he whispers, “I don’t want to be too loose for you.”

“I don’t think you should worry about that,” Baekhyeon titters. Still, he puts it away, and lifts off him.

Sehun, tied as he is, can’t resist smoothing down his ruffled hair. It’s a bit damp, glossy, and Sehun’s fingers slide easily through it. He does it until Baekhyeon lets out one of this puppy-like purrs before he lets go. He really shouldn’t be testing the bracelets anymore, for he definitely feels that they have slackened a little.

Baekhyeon turns away from him. He’s on all fours, his back bowed a bit, and his ass high up. He didn’t see before the tension of his hamstrings, and how beautifully the bands of the thigh highs envelop them, nor the incision of the two garters at the back over his ass. It’s plump, and the material is rigid, so the flesh yields to it, lets it cut into it. His gaze shifts to the scissure between cheeks, to the wilted coral of his hole, to his balls too, heavy and squished a little by his inner thighs. It’s a cute ensemble, in nuances and lineation, but also sexy beyond belief.  

He picks up the lilac box from the end of the bed, and does a half-assed tumble till he’s back and resting against the headboard as he looks through it. His hair is ruffled. Sehun observes him with a smile.

“Prep me for this,” he says a short while later, presenting him the second smallest of the metal plugs.  He’s not asking, but not commanding either – it’s just said with the simple knowledge that Sehun will comply.

The width of it is just enough to make the insertion of it without prep a tad bit uncomfortable. He doesn’t truly need it. Regardless, Sehun is eager to help him with it, because there are few things that he likes doing to Baekhyeon more than fingering him.

Sehun gets up, gets near, and as he assesses the situation, he realizes he can’t exactly find a good position to do this with his tied hands.  

He peers helplessly at Baekhyeon. “I can’t really— “ he trails off when he sees Baekhyeon smirking.

“You can kiss me,” he says simply.

Sehun demurs, disbelieving that Baekhyeon really is saying what he is saying.

“I can?”

Baekhyeon smiles, nearly cordial, and he parts his legs, lifts them to show himself. With two fingers, he pats at his entrance. “Edge me,” he says, “I’ll fill you up so good then.”

And oh, fuck, Sehun had been wanting to do this to him for so long. But Baekhyeon wouldn’t permit it without protection, while with protection Baekhyeon can feel next to nothing. Sehun knows there is the potential for him to absolutely adore it, judging by how much he likes being fondled there, fingered and rubbed, how he can come sometimes just from Sehun grinding his cock between his cheeks.

Sehun finds himself simpering as he scrambles to get in between Baekhyeon’s legs. He positions himself with his arms bent underneath his chest, elbows wide, so he has a bit of stability. It’s decently comfortable too.

He then stares. The gorgeousness of his legs clad in the gorgeous stockings. His lower stomach, where his skin catches texture, is a bit nappy, his happy trail, then his cock, laying against his belly, his slightly swollen balls, and then, his hole.

Sehun swallows. He waits for Baekhyeon to signal him something, to _allow_ him. After what feels like too long, it comes, in the form of Baekhyeon letting his thighs relax, making them _available_ to Sehun.  

He dives into it. Brocades Baekhyeon’s upper legs with his teeth, with his lips, his tongue – it’s all he has, as of now, it’s all he has to weave some reverence into it. Baekhyeon combs fingers through his hair, encouraging and gentle, before he parts his legs properly, widely, and Sehun promptly dips to kiss at his balls.  

Maybe he had a thing for the fact that his mouth has been everywhere on Baekhyeon but here. It tastes all the same as the rest of him, same savouriness, hominess. Baekhyeon certainly wouldn’t have allowed this if he wasn’t clean. Sehun licks his way down until he finds the texturing, and dip of his entrance. It reacts to the touch, the whole of Baekhyeon does, a jerk from his hips and a gasp from his mouth.

Sehun aspires to get more of these. Please him.

The second lick. The third. Sehun sticking his tongue out as far as it could go, to cover as much surface as possible. A fourth, with a quaver, a sway of the edge over the very centre of the aperture. Baekhyeon gives a gasp for each. He likes it. He _likes_ it. Sehun hoped so much that he would, and now that it’s confirmed, he goes at it with more verve.

His hips raise to help Sehun a little, since from this angle Sehun can’t really dip to his hole, and _now_ Sehun can do his best. Swirl his tongue over the plicate skin, apply force in its declivity until it gives, and the tip of his tongue enters a bit into him, twirls there too. Goes up to his perineum, his balls too, back down, lick over and over, harder and harder, over his hole. Baekhyeon’s thighs clench around him, their softness caging him as he trembles.

Sehun doesn’t slide his tongue deep inside Baekhyeon – he cannot press his face close enough like this, nor is this really a good practice without precautions, but it’s enough, and Baekhyeon moans again, the carding of his fingers into Sehun’s hair losing more and more gentleness as it passes into tugging.

He moves upward again, reaching his cock, and Sehun opens his eyes for a second. He sees the eminent fascia of his ribcage, from which his tummy flutters, pulling tight in tandem with his sucks at the head of Baekhyeon’s cock. His breaths are short. Sehun delights in the sight a little more before he returns to his hole.

Sehun senses Baekhyeon’s toes, pointed, flexed, digging into Sehun’s back. The stocking makes them slide on Sehun’s shoulder blades. There is force – Baekhyeon is using this leverage to conduct the push of his ass against his mouth. This feels beautiful to Sehun, a beauty that isn’t for the eye, for he cannot see, but as a moment, their arrangement, what they take from one another.  

This is still a kind of oral sex - it’s still kind of hard to breathe, and his body is contorted. It would have been easier if Baekhyeon sat on his face, and fuck, how much he wants that too – but maybe seeing Sehun struggling like this is part of what Baekhyeon likes. It doesn’t hurt though; he doesn’t need to go to his happy place in order to keep going. Eating Baekhyeon out is purely enjoyable, hearing him react too, for Sehun’s mouth is talented. 

He oscillates between his hole, his balls, his cock. This is part of the edging – Sehun can tell how close he is, when to stop, when to continue. He pulls one of his testicles in his mouth, lets go, and glides the width of his tongue flat against his shaft – fuck, he’s so hard - reaching the tip and slurping the precome, and then going back down to his wet entrance.  

Baekhyeon is thrusting against his mouth, moaning, flailing, his hands keeping him there. Sehun would like to make him come from this. It would be so good - an orgasm built so slow it can be nothing short of mind-blowing. If Sehun keeps on like this, Baekhyeon will come. He’s right on the brink, Sehun hears, the thrashing of his head, his sounds quietening, becoming gaunt and raspy, susurrations in his chest that don’t even make it past his lips anymore, as he relentlessly grinds himself on Sehun’s face. He’s _loving_ this.

Sehun will eat him out all the fucking time from now on if he lets him. It took so little to get him this close – both in duration and in effort – and maybe this is more than a result of its novelty.  The lack of protection really does so much more to him. He’s sure this has never happened before - for Baekhyeon to pull at his hair so hard, to beg for more like this. Sehun cannot be inherently skilled at it - he’s never had enough practice. However, Baekhyeon did it to him. A lot. He ate Sehun out so often, being for Sehun made no difference whether it was bare or not.

So now he’s applying all of that, all of what Baekhyeon usually does to him, all of what Sehun likes being done to himself. It’s nearly like a contest, for Baekhyeon has never managed to bring him so close to coming only from this, wreck him like this.

Sehun takes advantage of the fact that by now he has slackened to slip his tongue inside – he’s here to stretch him after all. If Baekhyeon is to break his nose like this, Sehun wouldn’t mind. He doesn’t remark, when among all the rustles and the groans, there are words too. “Sehunnie, stop. Stop,” even when Baekhyeon himself _isn’t_ stopping his hips, and Sehun is lapping at his walls.

But in the end, there comes a pull at his hair, and a lowering of Baekhyeon’s pelvis instead of a rise. Sehun is tired too, his tongue, his mouth. He’s breathless. His face a mess.

Baekhyeon lets go of him entirely and relaxes back. There is too much distance between his entrance and Sehun’s mouth, and he cannot close it by himself given his position.

So this is the end of it.

Sehun licks off the excess saliva from around his lips as he looks at Baekhyeon. His eyes are closed and his chest is heaving. Sehun cannot stop staring at him.

“Too close, Sehunnie, too close,” he murmurs weakly.

Sehun smiles. He has a fashion of wording praise that has Sehun a blushing mess. He leans forward to muffle his hot, pleased cheeks into the soft of his tummy, between his cock and the garter belt. His mouth, though feeling tired somewhat, will never be too tired to want to kiss him, so this is what he does, sprinkles light pecks all over him, maybe a bite or two as he comes down. He picks up the edge of the belt between his teeth and pulls it up, only for it to slap back down on his skin and generate the slightest jiggle. Sehun immediately kisses that too.

“This doesn’t help,” Baekhyeon says. He doesn’t sound so winded anymore, but mirthful. Underearth, he identifies a trifle of reprimand.

Sehun only feels prouder, and he looks up at Baekhyeon with what he is _sure_ is a stupidly dopey smile. Baekhyeon returns it, holds it, until Sehun decides to be a brat and lick at the tip of his cock because there is no way he would let that precome go dry and be wasted.

Baekhyeon picks up the plug and Sehun, eyes hazy, stares at it for a moment before he says, “Lube.”

Baekhyeon scrutinizes him. The hand from his hair drips down to his jaw then, enfolding it gently. It’s only a plume of a touch, challenging the skin to feel it. He’s heard Sehun, definitely, but he makes no move for lube, but instead, he brings the plug closer, dry as it is, and suddenly nudges it to Sehun’s lips. It’s still pretty small, even the rounded part of it, and Sehun opens up obediently, until the widest part of it slips in, over his teeth, and settles between his tongue and his palate. The base against his lips is, oddly, remindful of a pacifier. Baekhyeon smiles, probably sharing the thought.

“Wet it well,” he says, twisting it, pulling it out just a bit, before the rondure hits his teeth, and then back in, only a few times, having this amused expression layered over a bedimmed one.

He’s being face-fucked by a toy now. The material of it is solid, numb, and yet Sehun still treats it as though he needs to pleasure it. The way Baekhyeon is pushing it is cadenced, controlled by his thumb, all the while his other fingers border Sehun’s chin, as though to makes sure it cannot fall from Sehun’s mouth. Like Sehun would dare disobey him like that.

He takes it out then, subtly hitting on Sehun’s teeth to let go. Sehun’s lips are thoroughly wet, and the plug is coated with a thick film of saliva.

Sehun has been wanting to grind down his cock onto the mattress all along – Baekhyeon hasn’t allowed him that - but especially during this moment, as curious as it was. Sehun nearly wishes it didn’t end.

He prepares again to ask for lube when Baekhyeon speaks.

“It doesn’t have to move once inside me.”

He stares at Sehun, his gaze fraught with _something_ that Sehun doesn’t get to understand the meaning of before he flips the plug around on his fingers and presses it again to Sehun’s lips. Sehun opens up, yet again, of course, a bit befuddled, until he gets it, suddenly he gets it, and catches the base behind his teeth, pressing his tongue forward to make sure it doesn’t slip farther.

He cannot use his hands to put it inside Baekhyeon, but he can use his mouth.

Baekhyeon lifts his legs, folded, along with his hips, bares himself completely before Sehun. He only wastes a jiffy to admire the view before he stoops to fit the tip of the plug to Baekhyeon’s hole. It’s easier than he expected to push his face against his ass and search until the plug finds its place. It doesn’t even take a lot of force for the very tip of it to slip in, before the rest of it glides in smoothly, the only hiccup being Baekhyeon’s little moan as the widest part of the toy stretches him.

Sehun lets go of it, and resurfaces kiss by kiss against him – his perineum and his balls and along his shaft, till the wet head of his cock, when finally, his meets Baekhyeon’s eyes. He’s hard as fuck, breathless and quivering, and yet his gaze is only brimful with appreciation.

He summons Sehun close with a gesture of his hand, and he immediately encases Sehun’s face, running fingers over Sehun’s beam, wiping away the saliva, the bit of precome, and pushing it into Sehun’s mouth, all the while he maintains eye contact with Sehun, lustrous and warm. He lingers at Sehun’s lips, looking to becalm them. He does feel a slight scratch at his gums, the insides of his lips, his palate, a tenderness that will serve as a minor annoyance at least for a few hours. He forgets all about that under Baekhyeon’s careful deliverance.

The play comes to a slight suspension, when Baekhyeon lets Sehun lay on top of him, and obliges him with a few sways of his hips, having Sehun’s cock against his belly, his hip. It’s been ignored for so long, and when it did get attention, it was in the form of bites, so this, something as simple as grinding together with Baekhyeon, cock to cock, is inordinately satisfying. Baekhyeon tilts his head to the side and invites Sehun to nip his sighs into it.

Humping is something they do so often, nearly daily, and it’s like they’re taken out of this framework and transported to the dark alleys after they go clubbing, get drunk, get hornier, more in love, and they can’t wait till they get home; lazy mornings when their morning wood happens to align; sneaks in Baekhyeon’s office during lunch break because Baekhyeon looks so good sometimes that Sehun can’t take it; when they’re cooking and Sehun comes behind him, presses in close, until Baekhyeon turns around and pulls him _closer_ and doesn’t let go of him until they’ve both soiled themselves; on the couch during the commercials as they’re watching reality shows late at night and this is so fast, so good, so giggly, messy just right.

Out of all the sexual acts, Sehun will miss this one the most.

He shakes the thought away and focuses on the feeling of Baekhyeon moving with him. The stockings, the belt, the garters – he feels them on his own skin. Perhaps this is as close as he can get for now to wearing them himself. Instead of deeming them a barrier, the fabrics add friction, a bit more sensation. Baekhyeon’s hands land on Sehun’s ass with a slap before his fingers delve along his crack, and Sehun feels the lightest tease of his digits around his rim. It reminds him of the emptiness. He finishes serrating a little lune into Baekhyeon’s neck with his teeth before he faces him.

“And now,” Sehun says. He meant to raise the tail of it, to make it a question, but his mouth lost it to a groan as Baekhyeon’s finger _dipped_ into him.

“Now I _fuck_ you.”

Because they haven’t really done that yet. Not by Baekhyeon’s definition – it’s nearly a trademark – a specific in dynamism, in spirit, in zeal. When his gait, his bearing is lickerish, and he _only_ needs Sehun. That’s a _fuck_.

Exorbitant desire unfolds in Sehun’s core, disarming, unsteadying. “Please.” He’s been waiting for this.

Baekhyeon stills, his lids flittering shut as he swallows. He’s savouring the word, because out of all the ways Sehun has asked things of him so far, none of them were legitimate begs, not like this one is. “However you want,” he speaks, too quiet. He licks his lips and reiterates, not louder, but clearer. “I’ll take you however you want.”

He’s letting Sehun pick the position. His mind doesn’t even go past his first choice, doesn’t even look for alternatives.

Sehun allows himself one last grind before he gets off Baekhyeon. He’s definitely not moving gracefully at all, given how much his balance is affected by his bound hands and the softness of the mattress, but he still manages to arrange himself in record time.

“Like this,” he whispers, glancing at Baekhyeon through his lashes, and hoping he approves of his preference.

He wants Baekhyeon to take him from behind. He won’t be able to see his face as he comes, as he smiles, kiss him, but he doesn’t need to. It’s the most impersonal of positions, and somehow, it’s for this exact reason that makes it feel deeply intimate to Sehun.  

The abandon is obvious in his mien – his legs parted wide, let to slide wider, his ass up, his back dipped, remiss, and his shoulders relaxed into the mattress, tied hands underneath himself, and his face into the pillow. He had no intention of keeping himself upright in the first place – he is as though Baekhyeon has already ruined him, fucked him into oblivion and he has no strength left.

This is not his intrinsic sexual behaviour - this level of submissiveness, letting Baekhyeon do whatever he wants to him, obeying all of his whims. He’s a switch, in quite the loose meaning of the word as he assumes both these positions, and so he cannot give himself fully to one role or the other. There are bits and pieces that he likes of both worlds, and none of them touch extremes.

But to Baekhyeon, he can give himself wholly. It’s not more, and not less than that. This kind of servility perhaps doesn’t fit in any category - it’s something that only Baekhyeon can bring out in him.

Baekhyeon approves of his choice – the admiration in his eyes is explicit, enkindled, as he looks at Sehun’s form.

When he moves, getting behind Sehun, the first thing he touches are his shoulder blades. Baekhyeon has a thing for his back in general, how defined and broad it is, the visible, tangible strength of it. The heels of his palms follow the dip of Sehun’s spine, till his tailbone, and back down. At the end of the third sequence of this sort, Baekhyeon doesn’t stop, and he reaches his ass, taking a few handfuls of it, pinches it a bit, fingers closing in a snug grab that sometimes has his nails grazing. Sehun keens, pushing back into it.

He likes the fresh pink on Sehun’s ass, the watercolour bruising, because Sehun’s body can take a lot without developing any welts – hits, scratches, bites – and if it happens, the marring vanishes soon. But his ass, the back of his upper thighs, his inguen blemish easily, erupt into violets that persist for days.

A hard slap strikes one of his cheeks. The cutting sound rings in his ears as the skin heats up, prickles, and Sehun is still distraught by its aftereffects to prepare for the other slap, even though he expected it. This one is harder, for Baekhyeon used his dominant hand, and twinges of it are spiky, wonderful. Sehun bites at the pillow, only to muffle the sound wanting to spill. He wouldn’t call this pain, but not pleasure either, just an experience terrifically inciting in its asperity.

Sehun loses count right after. They come too fast, they hit too hard. Sehun isn’t given a chance to sober up between strikes, so he succumbs, lets the feeling of blazing formication spread, seep through his skin until he’s tingling from within.

When it stops, Sehun collapses into himself, and finally takes in big inhales.

“You never do anything to deserve a spanking,” Baekhyeon says. His voice is sedate, corroded by arousal, and it make a startling contrast with the loudness of the hits. Sehun can already imagine the way he’s staring at his ass – probably red all over, splotchy - and liking _the fuck_ out of it. “Unfortunately.”

Sehun shouldn’t reply to that. It’s not an allusion for Sehun to behave brattier, more defiant. It’s rather an apology towards him, for Baekhyeon has done this even when Sehun has no faults.

But Sehun liked it, a lot, and he’s really turned on by it, so all he does is let his knees slide a bit more, so his ass arches higher, and closer to Baekhyeon, to lure him into getting inside of him already.

Baekhyeon huffs, diverted, before Sehun senses him move. For a while, nothing happens, and he hears nothing, and then a slick, slimy sound. Lube. Already being spread on his cock. Sehun lets out a tiny, blowy moan – he has a thing for this sound. He’s been conditioned for it, since it heralds nearness of astounding pleasure.

Baekhyeon doesn’t enter him as he did previously. He plays around this time, slots his cock between Sehun’s cheeks, pulling them apart and then releasing, so it’s enveloped by them before he does a few thrusts. Sehun is already twitching only as he feels this rub against his hole, the squelches louder. He undulates his hips instead of being still, looking for more, curving till Baekhyeon’s balls touch his own, and the friction is broader, better. On occasion, the tip of Baekhyeon’s cock catches onto his stretched entrance, and Baekhyeon’s fingers dig into his ass, in warning, or liking, or both.

Sehun doesn’t have to do this trick a second time, for Baekhyeon grips his hips and slides into him. It’s easy and utterly blissful – of course. He’s been empty for long enough to feel the stretch as though it’s new, but without any smidgen of displeasure. Sehun moans again – and he knows he won’t be stopping from now on – because he already loves this, loves it more than the last time, being now it’s bare and that means feeling more of him, feeling him closer, better.

There is no transition, but it’s a crisp start. Insofar, there has been plenty of build-up, Sehun doesn’t have to adjust to anything, and Baekhyeon is strung out too, needy.  There is skin slapping already, Baekhyeon’s hipbones crashing into his ass, the groans, the muted cries of the mattress, the rustle of the sheets shifting under them as they slip around. It’s how he knows Baekhyeon fucks when he isn’t wearing a condom. Ferine, tactless.  And all Sehun can do is stay there, spread out, and take Baekhyeon’s cock over and over.

He bends over Sehun, gripping on his flank, his breath over his nape. “Sehunnie,” he says. Vanquished, tenuous. He’s already a mess.

There is nothing else that Baekhyeon enjoys as much as fucking him. There is no greater simulation for his cock than Sehun’s _perfect_ ass. Blowjobs are nice, frottage is nice, intercrural is nice, but nothing measures to this – a pleasure that weakens him, debones him. While his hips are strong, his thighs tensed as they align with Sehun’s, the rest of him is soft.  His hands on Sehun, his voice, his moans. All of this is feeble, overwhelmed. “Sehunnie, so good to me,” he utters close to Sehun’s ear, and it’s clear in his tone how much this cripples him. He slips out of Sehun sometimes, and the resulting vexation is expressed with little growls, his teeth in Sehun’s shoulder, before he enters him again.  

He smacks Sehun’s ass, his palm then smoothing over the place, going down to his thigh, and with that, he directs Sehun to gather his legs, press them together, Baekhyeon’s shins rearranged on the outsides of his. The angle changed. Sehun yelps as tension takes a hold of him, for Baekhyeon is hitting his prostate dead on. The nudge of it is fixed, so that Sehun nearly doesn’t register the in and out movement or the heft of him, but just this unforgiving pelting. His moans turn abridged, cut off by oncoming ones, serried, clumped together, synced with each of the presses.

“How do I even deserve you,” Baekhyeon babbles on, bending over him once more, sounding even more wrecked now. Sehun is tighter around him in this position, and also clenching harder as a reply to Baekhyeon hitting right where he needs.

His words keep roving, praise, curses, moans. His hands are roving too, wherever they can reach, looking for purchase on Sehun’s body, but barely having the strength to really grip. He isn’t even concentrating on anything anymore – not on striking Sehun’s prostate, not on being gentle. He’s just wanting, and listening to this want without regard to anything else.

Tiredness shows through though - too many slips, too much fluctuation. Sehun decides to help him, take over even, pushing himself back into Baekhyeon, taking him easily, hard, fast. This is past any teasing and slowness – this is the summit when need cannot be regulated anymore. The fit and fill of him is perfect to Sehun too, ideal on all accounts, in girth and length and shape, and Sehun fucks himself on him with wantonness. He’s resting over Sehun’s back, his mouth open as he says little broken things. “Sehunnie.”  Mostly Sehunnie. The only thing he can think. Sehun melts each time, but pushes back, takes him better, make him say it again. Baekhyeon isn’t still, but he’s not thrusting either. He’s doing these rotations of his hips that have the head of his cock prodding his prostate unyieldingly, while the most sensitive part of Baekhyeon’s cock is held and worked exactly by the muscles Sehun can voluntarily contract.

He lifts off Sehun, his knees planting in the mattress, his hands grabbing Sehun’s hips. He stills him, takes back over, and snaps into him. Sehun’s name is still on his lips, just as weak and splendid.

Baekhyeon is close. It’s foretold by constancy. It’s no longer alternating, no longer seeking, no longer playful, but resolute, steadfast, an iteration that is settled on, chased, for Baekhyeon to come. It begins hurting, for it seems he isn’t lubricated enough anymore, and there is a scrape of sorts, scathing. It plummets, gets worse thrust by thrust, each of them individualized by their sharper and sharper sting. It’s still so good though - it brakes the cadence slightly, makes him focus there, think there, feel nothing else but Baekhyeon thrusting into him.

He smites his ass here and there. Not to chastise him for anything but to remind Sehun that if Baekhyeon wanted to hurt him in this manner, in this nature, he would take it, he would like it. He goes harder, his thrusts abbreviated, callous.

Baekhyeon moans, disjoined, scrumptious, and it dews over Sehun’s cheek, flows in vapours into his ear, soothing, smothering, as he comes inside of him. Sehun can’t exactly distinguish being filled up - its warmth and wetness, which is not that different from the environment it is spilling into – but it’s in the jerking of his hips, so unlike everything that he’s done so far, utterly reflexive, unmodulated, his body taking all the control from him.

This phantom of Baekhyeon coming into him causes a rousing in Sehun, violent, pulling, carving. Baekhyeon is still holding onto him, his fingers planting a flowerage of welts around his hips, desperate to hold him still, skin harming skin. This is what a fuck is.

When he pulls out – too soon, Sehun deems -  the illusion of his come becomes real. He feels it smearing around his hole, before beginning to its slow flow down his thigh, palms grab at his hips and he’s suddenly being turned over on his back and being filled again, but this time with Baekhyeon’s fingers, picking up where his cock has left off. He uses three of them, and Sehun is relaxed enough to take the width of them side by side, pressed in deep so the tips continue the emphasis on his prostate. Sehun is close to touching himself, given his hands are _right_ there, next to his leaking, needing cock. He’s so wet. The precome left glistening streaks all along the shaft, and his balls are heavy and drawn in.

But before he gets to ask permission for that, Baekhyeon curves, rearranges himself, and breathes right over Sehun’s cock for a second before he takes him into his mouth.

Sehun nearly wrenches himself away from him when the sensations combine. Baekhyeon follows him anyway, opens his lips wider, taking in more of Sehun, and edging his rim with his pinky too.

He barely has the strength to open his eyes, but once he does, he cannot look away. Sehun has a really fucking big cock, and Baekhyeon has about half of it in his mouth, just about to slide down his throat. The strain of his face is so obvious, so severe, that he cannot even open up that wide without tearing up, without seeming like joints of his lips don’t sting, his jaw appearing unhinged. It’s a tremendous effort, one for which any hope of attaining accommodation or any semblance to comfort would be absurd, while he’s just so _eager_ , swallowing down and flicking his tongue as his fingers keep on working inside of Sehun.

This orgasm isn’t powerful and isolated like the other one was - not a high represented by a peak within itself. But it spread, dispersed, pulsating, overcoming, drowning Sehun, for he cannot breathe, a consummate pleasure, clogging everything. Maybe because he is exhausted already and his muscles can’t do more, but the sensations combine - coming in Baekhyeon’s hot mouth, his fingers on his prostate, sucking and pressing. Sehun is being held under by it, afloat under rocks, tide after tide. It seems to have no end. But of course it does, overlate, and it’s not a gradual subsiding, but instead, it leaves him as sudden as it had come, and Sehun now feels the euphoria of complete relaxation, where the tightness in his body is rewarded with release.

He isn’t given a breather, however, because Baekhyeon stretches over him, his own come and Sehun’s on his fingers and into his mouth. First, he feeds the digits to Sehun, who opens up, takes, so _easily_. He laps at them earnestly, as he looks at Baekhyeon, his eyes, to catch on the moment they collapse into the specific adumbration it always falls into when come is involved. Sehun swallows, and Baekhyeon moans, muffled, a droplet of come slipping from the corner of his mouth. There is both the sight of Sehun gulping, and the taste of him – Baekhyeon’s eyes roll behind his closed lids.

Baekhyeon loves come. The semifluid, glutinous, alkaline pungency of it, the residue, the lingering feeling in his throat after having swallowed. He loves it. And especially Sehun’s aroma – so much that he often looks to pull him out and into his mouth just to get to it, drinking him down like it’s ambrosia.

Sehun isn’t that into it. Had it not been for the subtext, had it not been Baekhyeon’s come, Sehun is sure he wouldn’t like it. If he didn’t love him. He knows it’s a pleasure only by association, but that doesn’t lessen its trueness or its significance at all.

Sehun waits for Baekhyeon to retract his fingers that are now just covered in spit, and run them again over Sehun’s hole, gathering more.

“I can’t believe I made you come like that,” he says with astonishment, and _satisfaction_ , right before he is back to filling Sehun’s mouth.

Sehun is so wanting of it, ready to clean everything up, and he does so, suckles, lets saliva gather in his mouth until he can swallow the very last trace of the spunk. He plays with Baekhyeon’s fingers too, because they’re responsive, and Baekhyeon enjoys having them stimulated. As Sehun sucks, weaves his tongue in between the digits, he witnesses the shiver rocking Baekhyeon’s body. He can’t tell if the sort of delectation he derives from this is of sexual nature or not, but it is a puissant sensation nonetheless, and it deserves nourishment. Perhaps this is why he likes fingering Sehun so much too.

Baekhyeon’s disinclination at withdrawing them is palpable, but he does so at last, using the pad of his thumb to brush over Sehun’s wet lips in closing.

And then there comes the kiss, bestowed upon Sehun’s mouth with force, and come, more come, his own this time, Baekhyeon sharing it with him. It’s insulated, a tight welding of them, to make sure they don’t make a mess. There is bitterness, saltiness, haste, and under all of that, adulation.

Before the come is even all gone, they have fallen into a warm kiss. And this is the end of their play.

Sehun simpers into it. It’s such a tender, blithesome kiss, bundles of curlicues, of gayeties, and Sehun moves his hands, wanting to cup his jaw and feel it opening to let Sehun’s tongue lick over his. But he cannot do this with his bindings.

Baekhyeon’s reluctance to part from him is boisterous, a loud whine. He clamps his teeth over Sehun’s lower lip as he lets go. He reaches to untie him. It takes less than a blink – as it took when he put them on. It’s hard for Sehun to register the _freedom_ he now has, even as he watches Baekhyeon lock the one bracelet he took from Sehun onto his own wrist.

“How about you keep it? Since you lost that little ring,” he says. Sehun still hasn’t moved his hands, and Baekhyeon does that for him, grabbing one of them and settling it onto his neck.

Sehun looks at the golden thread. He’s gotten used to it so much that he doesn’t feel its presence at all. He doesn’t know how he lost the ring Baekhyeon gave him. One moment it was in its place, and the next it wasn’t. If he still had it, he’s sure he wouldn’t have been able to take it with him. But this bracelet is so thin, it nearly can’t be seen. It certainly won’t interfere with his training. He may be allowed to keep it. He hopes he will.

Sehun now hugs him, rolls them over, and looks down at Baekhyeon. Beautiful Baekhyeon. His mouth, a roseate confection, welcoming the amore of his kiss. He giggles, kisses him and giggles. Sehun touches him everywhere. He missed the feeling of his body under his hands. He runs them over skin and fabric and skin and fabric, from his legs to his neck. He breaks the kiss for a second to slip two fingers under the band of the stocking, pulling, only to let it slap against his thigh. It gives the tiniest, most delicious jiggle, and Sehun feels fondness curling his mouth into a smile. Baekhyeon is eager to reclaim this simpering mouth, and kiss him over and over. It’s impish. His tongue sneaks out, deflects, chases Sehun’s, deflects, catches Sehun’s, and pulls him into his mouth until Sehun twitters.

He has to divert from Baekhyeon’s lips and to his cheek until he manages to stop his laughter. Baekhyeon whines, and asks for him back. He behaves now. It’s a dreamy, romantic smooch that Sehun hopes will never _ever_ end.

“Take it off me,” Baekhyeon breaks to whisper.

Regrettably, Sehun didn’t get to put this on him. But he will enjoy undressing him of it just about the same. With another peck to his mouth, Sehun descends to fiddle with the belt. It has three metal hooks right on the front, small and discreet, serving as accents to its design. It also takes three flicks of his fingers to get them undone. The stockings are also held up by three garters each, one in the front, one along his hip, one at the back. Baekhyeon provides access for him to unclip all of them. The last thing to be done is slide the stocking off, which he does with both of them at once, one in either hand. They roll off swiftly, and Sehun eagerly takes in the sight of the bared leg. Baekhyeon’s legs are so beautiful. Sehun giggles a bit when he feels his long calf hairs tickling his palms.

He grabs the belt and the stocking and throws them in a pile on the floor. He looked stunning with them, but certainly he doesn’t look any less stunning without. He bends to kiss the rosy striation left by the belt on his stomach, embedding a couple of dulcet, wet dainties into it.

“How do you feel,” Baekhyeon asks, softest, carding his fingers through Sehun’s hair as he’s doing his lavishing.

“I…” Sehun really doesn’t feel _anything_ else besides: “Love you.”

Baekhyeon’s face twists – a patchwork of expressions, the panes of his face wrought. It lasts for a heartbeat or two before he mutters, “Same,” and he dismantles into titters over Sehun. He remains there, cuddled close, smiling. Sehun looks for his cheek to peck it, make it heat up a little.

This is their aftercare. Even though it was Sehun's nuts that got hit, whose mouth got fucked raw, whose ass got bruised, he still feels like Baekhyeon needs the coddling as much as he does. They need one another equally. For Sehun, the drop out of the subspace isn't considerable - he wasn't in it very deep to begin with. He's only a bit more sensitive. Baekhyeon is worse. They have a slight imbalance here, between how much Sehun likes being treated like this, likes pain inflicted on him, and how much Baekhyeon enjoys doing it. Sehun likes it just a little more, gets off on being at Baekhyeon's mercy just a little more. The first few times they did this, Baekhyeon had a really hard time believing it is indeed what Sehun wanted. He stopped, apologized for hitting him, using him. And though being the one in control brought him great pleasure, for a few days he couldn't help being bothered by the fact that there was a happenstance where he treated Sehun in a derogatory manner, like he was lesser, worrying, fretting over Sehun assuming that _any_ of that treatment will transfer in his behaviour outside of the bedroom. It took a while before they tried again, and it got better, and better, until they've made their own style of play.

So they just need to cradle one another. Sehun needs to assure Baekhyeon that he's been so good to him, gave him what he wanted, and adored every moment of it, while Sehun needs to have Baekhyeon near, his hands on him, his smile on his skin, a little proof that he's more than just bodily pleasure to Baekhyeon.

They shift, face one another. Sehun caresses him. While Baekhyeon got to do this to Sehun, Baekhyeon received no caresses. Nor as many kisses. Sehun has to make up for it, pamper him, feel him. He pulls at his limbs gently until he's prostrated against Sehun, a bit on top of him, so they can bask in one another.

Sehun is tired. Spent. This is what this sort of sex does to him, but he's not sleepy. He wants to be awake with Baekhyeon, and talk to him. Hear him.

Because there will come many, many days when he won't be able to do this.

“Do you like my ass hairs?” Sehun inquires as Baekhyeon keeps prodding around inattentively, and he feels the little pulls at the roots. He’s all done with the photoshoots. He’s done plenty of waxing, as he was required for them. He kept himself clean-shaven if not waxed. But he stopped. He’s stopped for about three weeks now, ever since he’s been dismissed from work. He hasn’t been this wildly ungroomed since he passed into puberty and had no idea how to care for himself.  Sehun finds it odd that Baekhyeon hasn’t commented on it yet.

Baekhyeon pulls harder, only to let out a chortle at Sehun’s pinched expression. Afterwards he rubs his fingers on the skin, anointing. “Mhm. This suits you. It’s hot. And kinda cute.” The rubbing gets insistent. “But come gets stuck to them.”

“There won’t be any more come to stick to them for a long while.”

“Mmm,” hums Baekhyeon, contemplative, “you never know what man will charm you there. Or how strong the sexual frustration will be.”

“What man,” scoffs Sehun. “There aren’t any other men in this world. There is just you. You’re the only man in this world. I don’t know what other men you’re talking about.”

This isn’t new. Sehun said it many times before. He is blind to everyone else. He sees no one else, but Baekhyeon. And yet, Baekhyeon still laughs every time he hears it. And every time, Sehun relishes in his reaction.

“That doesn’t add up,” he says. “There is you, too. Two men in this world. Otherwise, I would be without my man.”

They stop and stare at each other. Slowly, but surely, they both crack under their own cheesiness, until they have to muffle laughter into one another. Sehun is ecstatic, of course, at Baekhyeon’s proclamation that he’s the only man for him. Nothing new, to be honest, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t love hearing it.

“What about the sexual frustration then?” Baekhyeon asks, his voice barely peeking above his chuckles.

“I have this friend,” Sehun says, lifting up his right hand and showing it to Baekhyeon. “It has fucked me well for a good part of my life.”

Baekhyeon barely abstains from cracking up. “This friend,” he says, taking Sehun’s hand and twisting it with his own. “It has fucked me too. Pretty good. Can confirm.”

This really isn’t about sex, though. It’s about much more.

“We’ll both be lonely,” Baekhyeon utters then, the whole mood changing. The statement is so heavy that it disrupts their quietude, their glee. “The house will be so empty without you,” he trails off, the last word eaten by his pout.

Sehun’s instinct is to deny that. It won’t be empty without him.

But he can’t. Can’t promise him that that won’t be the case. “Maybe you can replace me with someone,” he says instead.

Sehun is aware, that for himself, three years apart from Baekhyeon will do absolutely nothing. He will love him just as much irrespective of how much time passes.

 

But Baekhyeon deals with loneliness and the privation of affection worse than Sehun. It's not to say he thinks Baekhyeon will ever be unfaithful to him -  he just knows Baekhyeon will be too sad, too wanting in his absence, and that dejection, that bereavement, stretched for so long, is bound to cause some damage to the sturdiness of his feelings.

 

Sehun is terrified of this. Of having Baekhyeon back and seeing in his little eyes - they cannot lie to Sehun anymore - the love having atrophied, withered and crumbled, the shine replaced by dullness. It’s an unease that eats at him perpetually, cruelly, erodes him to the bone. He’s heard of marriages that haven’t survived it. Deep commitments shattered into nothing by the tick of the seconds.

 

“I will hit you in the nuts.” Baekhyeon oh so promptly sing songs, his knee already posing for it, his jaw tight in warning.

But maybe not. They don't know. They don't know how it will be. Perhaps their bond will strengthen instead. Hopefully.

“You _know_ I like that,” Sehun says, but still he shields himself a little. He doesn’t like it _at all_ outside of the play. Baekhyeon removes the threat of his knee with sigh. “But I mean. Like a puppy or something?”

“A puppy?” He perks up, in surprise and excitement. So cute. Sehun loves him so much that he tears up. He sniffles into Baekhyeon’s hair.

“A puppy. Not a cat, since we established they don’t like you no matter how much you like them. So a puppy.” He pulls away so Baekhyeon can peer at his face. “What sort of dog do I look like?”

Baekhyeon’s lower lip tucks into his upper one, his eyes measuring. “I don’t really know puppies. I just think you look like a…baby chick.”

“Cheep cheep,” responds Sehun. It appears he makes for a pretty convincing bird because Baekhyeon bursts out into giggles.

“Yeah, totally a baby chick. “

“Do you want a pet hen then?”

“No. I know for a fact that hens like me even less than cats.”

“Then what do we do?”

Baekhyeon hums. It’s excerpt from a cartoon, Sehun identifies, though he doesn’t get to coin which one before Baekhyeon speaks. “What about me, what sort of pup do I look like?”

“A corgi,” Sehun replies, too fast. He has no idea how this association came to be, but whenever he stumbles upon pictures or videos of them, he always, always thinks of Baekhyeon. Or he always, always thinks of Baekhyeon anyway. “A Welsh Corgi.”

He frowns for a second. “I don’t remember what these look like?”

“The ones with short legs. Light brown and white fur. The ones who sploot.”

“Are you calling _these_ short?” Baekhyeon gasps, lifting a leg in the air, toe pointed, thigh and calf flexed.

“No, I’m calling these gorgeous.” Sehun immediately reaches to kiss said leg, because he can’t be presented with it and _not_ give it some appreciation.

“I’m calling yours gorgeous too,” Baekhyeon responds, right in the heart of his chuckle, in the heart of his blushing. He dips to peck, noisily, the middle of Sehun’s thigh, before he’s back into Sehun’s face.

“There will be two Baekhyeons for you then.”

“My dream world has as much Baekhyeon as possible.”

“Doesn’t it already have all the possible Baekhyeon?” he asks, and he catches up to it, and Sehun watches Baekhyeon getting crushed by his own cheesiness, making him a cocoon of flush softness and Sehun wraps himself around him snugly to prevent him from squirming.

“It does. And I’m glad it does.”

Sehun feels Baekhyeon’s smile against his chest. They’re both sticky, cooled sweat and dry smears of precome, come, and lube on them. That doesn’t deter them from pressing close, skin to skin.

“Let’s…let’s be dads then,” says Baekhyeon quietly.

Sehun makes out the inquest in his voice. Are they’re really doing this. He shifts, so Baekhyeon’s head isn’t under his chin anymore, and he can look him in the eye. “Let’s be dads.”

His smile lengthens slowly, tooth by tooth, until it reaches its limit, being the cutest, brightest. The dimples twinkle, once, before it all collapses as Baekhyeon bites his lip. “Dads. Us.”

“You like the sound of this.”

Baekhyeon only nods, not finding his words. His eyes are glimmering, excited.

Sehun smiles, letting the joy of this sight wash over him. It last for a while, until something dawns on Sehun, bringing queasiness along with it.

Yet another thing, another worry. They still pass by, from time to time, make Sehun anxious, disturbed, and it’s so hard to calm him down afterwards.

He finds that he cannot open his mouth and say it this time. It’s too big, he feels, too leaden. He doesn’t have the strength for it.

Baekhyeon notices his sudden restlessness. He doesn’t ask Sehun what it is though – his measuring eyes caught onto Sehun’s tumult, and how hard it is for him to voice it. After a few long moments, he says, “I wouldn’t have wanted to be a dad of…anything else.”

Baekhyeon is unsure too, if he has gotten the topic of Sehun’s disquietude right. And he has, of course he has.

“You wouldn’t?”

How is it just now occurring to Sehun to ask he ever wanted kids. How. _How_.

“No.” He shakes his head. Such vehemence in it. “No. You didn’t take anything from me.”

Because had he not been with Sehun, and with a woman instead, that opportunity would have been possible. A family. A more...numerous one. And legal. Accepted. If only he wasn’t with Sehun. If only, three years ago, Sehun didn’t confess.

Is he even anything other than one big sacrifice to Baekhyeon.

Sehun didn’t say a single thing, but the thought might have as well been spelled on his face, for Baekhyeon’s eyes widen, and he’s right here, so close, and yet he rushes, _smashes_ into him with kisses. “No. No, Sehunnie, _no_.”

He doesn’t want to think like this either. To let such insecurities get back at him so easily. But they’re stronger now - it’s too close to their separation. In around eight hours, Sehun will be gone.

“I never wanted that,” Baekhyeon whispers, pulling Sehun close, his face to his neck, and rocking him lightly. It’s what he needs, Baekhyeon knows. Assurance. Affection. “You never took anything away from me.”

Sehun feels bad that Baekhyeon still has to do this for him after all this while, even though he acknowledges that it wouldn’t be any better to ignore these sentiments.

And maybe there is indeed a reason for this to have never come up before. Why Baekhyeon never said anything about it. It’s not a bad time to bring up this issue and have it out of the way – if anything, it is the best time.

“So it’s fine if we’re just pup dads?” Sehun asks. Baekhyeon shivers, and Sehun realizes that he has spoken right into the sensitive spot under his ear.

“Pup dads would be perfect.”

“We’re getting a pup.” Sehun tickles Baekhyeon with his slowly-growing smile. Just until Baekhyeon can’t take him anymore and pulls away from him.

“And if this pup doesn’t like me either?” he says.

“It will. You’re of the same species.”

Baekhyeon’s eyes narrow. “Is this your way of telling me you’re into pet play?”

Sehun snorts. “No. Definitely not.”

Baekhyeon appears relieved. Sehun tucks himself back into his neck. “Well, if you were, I would have done it for you.”

“I know.” Sehun wraps his arms around his waist, only to eliminate all the space between them. “You’re the most generous boyfriend ever.”

“Saying that as if you’ve had a million of them,” Baekhyeon pshaws.

He speaks again before Sehun even thinks of a retort. “Don’t take it out,” he scurries when Sehun’s hand lands on his ass, and begins jesting with the base of the plug, meaning to remove it. He does little back and forth with it, in restricted increments, because it was slid in basically dry and Sehun doesn’t want to hurt him. It wasn’t the best of decisions, he acknowledges, now that the fog of arousal has cleared up. “So you can fuck me one last time before you go,” he says. Sehun stops and peers at him. His eyes are droopy. And maybe a tad too shiny. “As we are now.”

This position, with both of them on their sides, facing each other. Baekhyeon thigh on Sehun’s waist, his cock to Sehun’s belly. It will be slow. Sehun doesn’t have enough leverage to thrust fast enough like this, nor the angle vantage to press properly where Baekhyeon needs. Dallied, mellow. Baekhyeon’s forehead will be against his as he will be gifting Sehun these sounds, kind of yippy but elongated, ariose. When Sehun fucks him, his moans are unlike when they do it the other way around, or when they do anything else. Sweeter, freer, Baekhyeon doing absolutely nothing besides being still and taking all the pleasure Sehun can give him.

It will be the last time they do this. For a while. A long while.

Sehun swallows, moving his hand from the plug to Baekhyeon’s middle, and hugging him just closer. “I’ll miss you so much,” he whispers.

Sehun is enlisting in the morning.

Eight months after this, when Baekhyeon graduates, he will too.

Most likely, they won’t meet. Sehun doesn’t even dare to hope to catch any glimpse of him during his service. Perhaps only at the beginning, if he manages to snatch himself some furlough, but afterwards, when Baekhyeon is in too, there is no way they’d sync them when they’re allowed 10 days of it total over the course of 21 months.

Realistically, the only meeting they have guaranteed is 100 days from now on, after Sehun’s basic training and allocation is done. Just this one day.

That makes for two years and a half of not having him close like this. Constant. Here, in his arms. Sehun can’t even fathom that.

“Me too,” Baekhyeon says, silent and listless. Sehun hates the sound of it. He brushes Baekhyeon’s bangs back and kisses his forehead. His temple. His cheek. His lips.

Baekhyeon responds. Plumose, compassionate kisses. A little ointment to alleviate their misery.

It derails after a while, and now Baekhyeon is the one pecking his cheek, his temple, his forehead. He pulls Sehun’s hair back. “I don’t think you can get any stronger,” he speaks, gaze on Sehun’s. “You’re _so_ damn buff. This country should be grateful to have someone like you at its service.”

Baekhyeon’s nose scrunches, and Sehun can’t help giggling.

“But I can. I’ll get strong. Very very strong.” His timbre dips, lightens. “And then I will hug you better than ever.” Dips lower, goes breathier. “And also fuck you better than ever.”

Sehun bursts into laughter, incredulous and endeared. “You hug and fuck me very well now too. You get tired maybe too fast but—“

“Hey!”

“Exercise is good for you, you know,” Sehun says. As much as he is into this himself, he never tried to push Baekhyeon into doing it more than he wants to – which is just some casual maintenance. But he would like it if Baekhyeon was a little more careful with his health. Only just so he can live a long, long life beside Sehun.

“Of course I know,” Baekhyeon scoffs through his simper. “I would be really jealous of your abs if like, they weren’t available for me to lick at any time.”

He treats the grooves like a maze and licks around until he ends up at Sehun’s cock. Or nipples. Or ass, even though there is technically no path to lead there. Indeed, Baekhyeon likes his abs _a lot_. Sehun admits that the reason he even works them so much is for Baekhyeon.

“Still, look forward to that! To how well I’ll fuck you when I’m out!”

“I don’t think you can top tonight’s performance, but fine, I’ll look forward to it.”

Baekhyeon rushes to kiss him. A few times. “Good!”

“But promise me you’ll also sit on my face.”

“Is that what you wish for?” Baekhyeon mutters, a kiss between each word.

It’s not his main one. What Sehun wishes for right now, _desperately_ , is for Baekhyeon to not forget him. But he can’t ask that of him. If Baekhyeon’s affections for him are to diminish, whether Sehun asks for it or not will have no effect other than putting pressure on Baekhyeon when it’s not even an aspect that he has control over.

Facesitting is the next best thing.

Sehun palms one of his ass cheeks. So _soft_. “My face would be honoured.”

“My ass would be even more honoured. _Super_ honoured. After what you did to me earlier.” His eyes glaze over a little.

“We have a deal then.” Sehun offers his pinky, and Baekhyeon twirls his own around it. They seal the promise by stamping their thumbs. And then, their lips.

When he will be missing Baekhyeon to the point of it hurting, only thinking back on these sort of kisses will alleviate some of the ache. His smile woven into them, the little sounds, the passion. He has a short while to get them, and be like this with him.

Baekhyeon won’t be seeing him off at the army base. It will be his parents. Just his parents.

They know about his relationship with Baekhyeon. Sehun told them personally. He remembers that day vividly - the day he came out to them. He wasn’t fearful at all, though no part of him believed he would be met with utter acceptance. And indeed, it wasn’t.

But it wasn’t repulsion either. Maybe confusion. Maybe just…pure sadness. Because their son wasn’t like all the other sons. Their son will never have a life like all the other sons. Will never have a traditional family.

It has settled now into pity. They don’t deny it. Don’t say it’s a phase, a disease, something that can be cured. But they do wish he wasn’t like this. They wish he was normal.

To them, it’s as though Sehun is _wasted_.

Hence the actual discord is when they see that Sehun doesn’t feel the same, and doesn’t wish he was normal. Doesn’t wish he didn’t like men. Because there is Baekhyeon, and what he has with him is nothing that he would ever have the smallest intention to condemn.

They don’t dislike Baekhyeon. No one does. But they would have wanted for their friendship to remain just that.

And then also, if Baekhyeon came to see him off, Sehun knows he wouldn’t be able to walk in there without kissing him again. That’s a not a good sight to present to his new comrades. It will cause friction, bring the prejudice already, give the higher ups a reason to bully him, an invitation for micro, or worse, macro aggression.  

His greatest sadness though is that he won’t be here, like this, with Baekhyeon when he enlists too. There will be no one making love to Baekhyeon one last time before he goes. No one to kiss him goodbye.

Unless a miracle happens and Sehun manages to land a furlough right on that day, Baekhyeon will be alone.

It’s at the best time for Sehun. He’s done many photoshoots for a lot of displays, so they have enough of a supply for the public to not forget him. He will be out at 27, still not old enough that he won’t be getting any more contracts and that the company won’t want him anymore.

But it’s a bad time for Baekhyeon to be on his own – when he’s nearly done with his studies, when it’s the hardest. Sehun won’t be there at his graduation. Sehun won’t come to him with champagne. Sehun won’t see him with that damn graduation cap on. Sehun won’t be giving him a million roses.

It will be cold too, winter, when Baekhyeon enlists. His five weeks of training will be done in dire conditions. There won’t be Sehun’s hands to hold onto to warm his own frozen ones.

Sehun has delayed all of his allotted 700 days down to the very last one for them to have the least time away from one another. It’s really the best they could do in terms of timing. But even so, the stretch is too long, and Sehun only sees bad thing after bad thing after bad thing. Not a single positive. Sehun nearly feels like laughing.

He didn’t even notice Baekhyeon getting a hold of one of the stockings, but he sees him now reaching for Sehun’s foot and starting to roll it on. He gazes blankly at Baekhyeon’s ministration until it’s settled. It only reaches past his knee, not over mid-thigh like on Baekhyeon. He glances at his skin – dappled with pinks from bruises, scratches, and bites. Baekhyeon always thinks he’s the prettiest like this, when the marks thrive on him.

“Looks pretty damn good,” Baekhyeon says.

It sounds faint though. Lifeless.

Sehun brings him back into his embrace. “Did you know,” he says, suddenly remembering something. He scoffs. How much his stance on this changed. “There was a time when I really wanted to go as soon as possible. I was about to go ask them to take me early.”

 Baekhyeon looks understandably surprised. He grips at Sehun’s shoulder. “When?”

Sehun smiles as he says it – the memory is now funny to him. “When I was convinced that you could never love me. And I couldn’t walk away from you. I was thinking that being away from you like this, held away, will maybe take care of the feelings.”

“Why didn’t you though?”

“Because I still dreaded being away from you as much as I do now.”

Withal, there is a way for him to get himself exempt from it, and Sehun, as the day of the conscription drew nearer, grew more and more enticed by the idea. The method by taking advantage of the unscrupulous homophobia prevailing within. Plenty of men were sent home on the basis of being openly gay, as that is considered to cause disturbance within the mental of the draftees. But this could very well backfire on him - not getting exempt and still being required to serve, now with the additional burden of having come out about his sexuality. The corporals are especially unkind, unforgiving to these people. He’s heard some lurid stories.

It’s really not worth the risk.

Not to mention Baekhyeon will still have to go anyway. What this will give him is only a little over half a year while giving him a lot of trouble in exchange.

He feels maybe a tinge of guilt for dreading it so much. It’s more than out of patriotism, it’s from understanding that there is a good reason for such a system to be in place, despite how untimely and long the service period is. Peace if fragile. And if that means military training in order to be prepared for anything, Sehun will not shy from it.

If only it didn’t take him away from Baekhyeon.

Baekhyeon softens. He doesn’t really like to be reminded of that period. It was just as bad for him when he didn’t love Sehun as it was for him. He was restless, bereft, he couldn’t believe that all he’s ever wanted, needed, was right in front of him all along.

“But you didn’t. I’m so glad you didn’t, Sehunnie,” Baekhyeon says, the ardour in his voice syrupy, stifled, as he leans in to sprinkle kisses over Sehun’s face, embraces him.  

When he’s adored like this, Sehun occasionally wonders where his life would be had he gone and had the military service indeed taken care of his unrequited feelings. Whether he would have found peace, moved on, felt even a fraction of the happiness he feels now with Baekhyeon by his side without having him.

He stops himself from thinking about it. Baekhyeon is kissing him and there is nothing else that matters. He’s _still_ with Baekhyeon, and nothing else matters. In a time he’s spending with Baekhyeon, it’s wrong to think of a time without him.

“Let’s wash up. I want to take care of you,” Sehun says.

They really are stuck together with the filth on their skin. The sex they had lasted perhaps two hours, and it feels as though it took place days ago. They need a rinse. A bit of a reset to will away the demons. No need to taint the last of their time together with poisonous thoughts.

“I’ll take care of you _better_ ,” Baekhyeon replies.

“This is not a competition.”

“Of course it is,” he deadpans, and takes Sehun’s hand, grabs it tight and pulls, takes Sehun with him out of the bed. Sehun shakes his head, and allows Baekhyeon’s feet to remain on the ground only for a fraction before he scoops him up in his arms bridal style and walks with him towards the bathroom.

“You’re not playing fair!” Baekhyeon bellows, but he’s laughing, and clinging onto him, and Sehun, for now, couldn’t be happier.

 

 

 

 

 

It’s morning.

They’ve made love, as Baekhyeon wanted. Showered again. Had breakfast.

Sehun puts on his shoes. He doesn’t tie them. Just puts the laces inside and slips his feet into them.

He doesn’t have a jacket to put on. He doesn’t have keys to grab. His phone, he leaves here, with Baekhyeon.

Sehun stills. This is all. The whole of the procedure, all he needed, just to put on his shoes. There is nothing else for him to do than to open the door and leave.

He looks at Baekhyeon to answer him. To give him something more. Give him the trash to take out on the way. Something to keep him for a few more seconds.

Baekhyeon takes a step towards him, until his toes totter on the ledge separating the living room from the foyer. Wavering. As though he’s teetering on the lip of an abysm and he has to keep himself from falling.

He’s only wearing his boxers and the shirt Sehun had on when he came over. It barely covers him. His house socks, the fuzzy ones, with little dots of silicone on the sole so he doesn’t slip, because his feet get cold easily.

It’s Saturday morning. Baekhyeon is free today. He will stay home, curl up on the couch and draw in his lap as he half-listens and half-watches some cartoons. Cook, being that they’ve shopped for groceries together yesterday and there is a lot of fresh produce in the fridge. Try one of the recipes he’s practiced with Sehun - they’re above mediocre at cooking now. Take a bath, for he really likes spoiling himself with baths full of bubbles, feeling like he’s buried in a cloud. He likes staying there and not thinking of anything as he soaks, and maybe plays with himself a little.

And normally, on a day like this, he’d be doing all of it with Sehun.

But Sehun will be gone.

Baekhyeon’s hands descend to the front of his thighs, where they twist in the hem of the shirt. Fist and squeeze. Again and again.

It’s an action Sehun has never seen before from Baekhyeon. It’s not nervousness, it’s not woe, it’s not –

Sehun doesn’t know what to say. What he’s feeling cannot be put into words. He cannot find any way to express even a fraction of what he means. He thinks of just saying bye, as he often does, high, chirpy, happy. Or this is the taste a goodbye shall leave. But he can’t do that either.

He tries a smile. And that works. That _works_. Baekhyeon is on the other side of the foyer, standing, smiling back at him in the morning sun. The smile itself isn’t radiant – it’s all a trick of light, painting felicity over a simper that is nothing but. But it’s genuine. It’s warm. It’s loving.

That’s enough for Sehun. He can leave now.

He turns his back to Baekhyeon and steps away from him. He touches the door handle. It’s cold. His palm throbs with something akin to frostbite, and he immediately takes his hand off it. Waits, breathes out, and puts it back on. Presses. Presses more, and he feels how the latchbolt is close to giving in and for the door to open. It needs less than a fraction.

Sehun turns around, longing for Baekhyeon, finding Baekhyeon, his Baekhyeon, his sad smile, his soft body, kissing him, _kissing him_. Baekhyeon opens up, clings, answers with the same fervency. Sehun staggers and pivots with him until Baekhyeon’s back is pressed to the wall, and his bare thigh twines around Sehun’s hip. Baekhyeon moans. It’s not pleasure. Definitely not pleasure. Oncoming yearning maybe. But it’s loud, it’s keening. It should be like this. It should hurt like this. His lungs. His heart. His everything. He should feel breathless. He should feel wobbly, as though this isn’t happening for real when they part. It should be like this, like a kiss should never be, never taste, never lacerate. The acerbity of despair, the sting of harsh bites, the pull, the taking, stretching flesh more than it’s meant to be stretched.

Then Baekhyeon wraps himself around him, chin over his shoulder, nose to his neck. A hug. A body trying to feel as much as possible of another. Sehun feels the shakiness then. In his own breath, in Baekhyeon’s. And his hands, his thighs, his everything squeezing Sehun. The tremble in his fingertips where they are placed on Sehun’s nape.

Sehun breaks now too. He squeezes back, burying into him. His warmth. His Baekhyeon.

He can distinguish it. It’s just one tear falling from Baekhyeon’s eye and dripping onto Sehun’s shoulder. Just one. And Sehun sheds his own. A pair of tears, one from each of them. They deserve this.

And this is when, before another one gets to fall, Baekhyeon clutches onto him the tightest, the tightest yet, the tightest _ever_ , with a force that seems way beyond his capability, beyond the strength of his body, as he whispers into his ear the weakest, frailest, “Go.”

Sehun is chasing time, chasing against that damn second tear. He presses Baekhyeon closer, basking, remembering. “I love you,” Sehun replies. There isn’t anything else he wants to say.

The door is there, he has his shoes on, and one second he’s home, in Baekhyeon’s arms, where he should be, and the next he’s out, running down the hallway.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> And now we all cry as we think of our boys enlisting


End file.
